“The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin’ worm doth chide-”
Hurrying away from this unbearable song and half blinded by tears, she suddenly found herself brought to a pause by Dr. William Coke, who was standing at the door that he might more closely inspect in the sunshine a fossil which they had brought back from Whitbourne.
“Whither away so fast, little niece?” he said in his genial voice. Then catching sight of the wet eyelashes, “Eh, what is amiss, my dear?”
“’Tis only that the stupid gardener will sing gruesome ballads about graves and channerin’ worms just on this special day when we have heard how thousands are dead and dying at Kineton,” said Hilary.
He sighed as he patted her shoulder, caressingly.
“True, child, it is indeed a dark day for England. May God send us peace! But dwell not on that thought of the grave. Remember rather the words, ‘The souls of the righteous are in the hands of God.’”
“But they were not all righteous,” said Hilary, in a choked voice.
“True, yet all belong to Him.”
“Many were rebels,” she said, “and Dr. Rogers thinks that all rebels will burn for ever in hell.”