April 20, 1665.
When the Horse is stolen, shut the Stable Door. Mary locked the lower Doors, and brought up the Keys herselfe, yestereven at Duske. Anon dropped in Doctor Paget, Mr. Skinner, and Uncle Dick, soe that we had quite a merrie Party. Dr. Paget sayd how that another Case of the Plague had occurred in Long Acre; howbeit, this onlie makes three, soe that we trust it will not spread, though 'twoulde be unadvised to goe needlesslie into the infected Quarter. Uncle Dick would fayn take us Girls down to Oxon, but Father sayd he could not spare us while Mother was at Stoke; and that there was noe prevalent Distemper, this bracing Weather, in our Parish. Then felle a musing; and Uncle Dick, who loves a Jeste, outs with a large brown Apple from's Pocket, and holds it aneath Father's Nose. Sayth Father, rousing, "How far Phansy goes! thy Voice, Dick, carried me back to olde Dayes, and affected, I think, even my Nose; for I could protest I smelled a Sheepscote Apple." And, feeling himselfe touched by its cold Skin, laught merrilie, and ate it with a Relish; saying, noe Sorte ever seemed unto him soe goode—he had received manie a Hamper of 'em about Christmasse. After a Time, alle but he and I went up, and out on the Leads, to see the Comet; and we two sitting quite still, and Father, doubtlesse, supposed to be alone, I saw a great round-shouldered mannish Shadowe glide acrosse the Passage, and hearde the Front-door Latch click. Darted forthe, but too late, and then into the Kitchen; with some Warmth chid Betty for soe soone agayn disobeying Orders, and threatened to tell my Mamma. She cryed pertlie, "Law, Miss Deb, I wish to Goodnesse your Mamma was here to heare you, for I'd sooner have one Mistress than three. A Shadowe, indeed! I'm sure you saw no Substance—very like, 'twas a Spirit; or, liker still, onlie the Cat. Here, Puss, Puss!" . . . and soe into the Passage, as though to look for what she was sure not to find. I had noe Patience with her; but, returning to Father, askt him if he had not heard the Latch click? He sayd, No; and, indeede, I think, had been dozing; soe then sate still, and bethoughte me what 'twere best to doe. Three Brains are too little agaynst one that is resolved to cheat. 'Tis noe Goode complayning to a Man; he will not see, even though unafflicted like Father, who cannot. Men's Minds run on greater Things, and soe they are fretted at domestic Appeals, and generallie give Judgment the wrong Way. Thus we founde it before, poor motherlesse Girls, to our Cost; and I reallie believe it was more in Kindnesse for us than himself, that Father listened to the Doctor's Overtures in behalfe of Miss Minshull; for what Companion can soe illiterate a Woman be to him? But he believed her gentle, hearde that she was a good Housewife, and apprehended she would be kind to us. . . . Alas the Daye! What Tears we three shed in our Chamber that Night! and wished, too late, we had ne'er referred to him a Grievance, nor let him know we had a Burthen. Soone we founde King Log had been succeeded by King Stork; soone made common Cause, tryed our Strength and found it wanting, and soone submitted to our new Yoke, and tried to make the best of it.
Yes, that is the onlie Course; we alle feele it; onlie, as Ill-luck will have it, we do not always feel it simultaneouslie. Anne, mayhap, has one of her dogged humours; Mary and I see how much better 'twould be, did she overcome it, or shut herself up till in better Temper. Mary is crabbed and exacting; Anne and I cannot put her straight. Well for us when we succeed just soe far as to keep it from the Notice of Father. Thus we rub on; I wonder if we ever shall pull all together?
April 22, 1665.
Like unto a wise Master-builder, who ordereth the Disposition of eache Stone till the whole Building is fitly compacted together, so doth Father build up his noble Poem, which groweth under our Hands. Three Nights have I, without Complaynt, lost my Rest while writing at his Bedside; this hath made me yawnish in the Day-time, or, as Mother will have it, lazy. However, I bethink me of Damo, Daughter of Pythagoras.
Mother came Home yesterday, and Betty, the Picture of Neatnesse, tooke goode Heede to be the first to welcome her, with officious Smiles, and Prayses of her Looks. For my Part, I thoughte it fullsome, but knew her Motives better than Mother, who took it alle in goode Part. Indeede, noe one would give this Girl credit for soe false a Heart; she is pretty, modest looking, and for a while before my Father's Marriage was as great a Favourite with Mary as now with my Mother; flattered her the same, and tempted her to idle gossiping Confidences. She was slow to believe herself cheated; and when 'twas as cleare as Day, could not convince Father of it.
On Mary's mentioning this Morning (unadvisedlie, I think,) the Kitchen
Visitor, Mother made short Answer—
"Tilly-vally! bad Mistresses make bad Maids; there will be noe such Doings now, I warrant. . . . I am sure, my Dear," appealing to Father, "you think well in the main of Betty?"
"Yes," says he, smiling, "I think well of both my Betties."
"At any rate," persists Mary, "the Man coulde not be at once her Cousin and her Brother."