“Nay, child,” replied Collet, stopping in the process of hanging up a skirt to dry. “Why, whatso? Naught ill, I do hope and trust, to Mistress Benden. I’d nigh as soon have aught hap evil to one of my own as her.”
“Eh, neighbour, ’tis all a body need look for,” sighed poor Widow Bradbridge, lifting Patience on her knee. “This world’s naught save trouble and sorrow—never was sin’ the Flood, more especially for women.”
“She’s had up to the Justices, Mother, but I couldn’t hear for why; and her own husband is he that taketh her.”
“He’ll get his demerits, be sure,” said Mrs Bradbridge.
“Well, and I wouldn’t so much mind if he did,” was Mrs Pardue’s energetic comment. “He never was fit to black her shoes, he wasn’t. Alice Benden afore the Justices! why, I’d as soon believe I ought to be there. If I’d ha’ knowed, it should ha’ cost me hot water but I’d ha’ been with her, to cheer up and stand by the poor soul. Why, it should abhor any Christian man to hear of such doings!”
“Mistress Hall’s withal, Mother: and I guess Master Benden ’ll have his water served not much off the boil.”
“I’m fain to hear it!” said Collet.
“Eh, she was at him, I can tell you! and she handled the matter shrewdly too. So was Esdras and Silas, and a sort more lads, a-crying, ‘Scratch him, Tabby!’ and she scraught him right well.”
“The naughty caitiffs!” exclaimed their mother. “Howbeit, when they come home we shall maybe know the inwards of the matter.”
The boys did not come home for some hours. When they did, Esdras slunk up the ladder, his garments being in a state which, as Silas had just kindly informed him, “smelt of the birch,” and not desiring the application of that remedy sooner than could be helped. Silas flung his cap into the furthest corner, with a shout of “Hooray!” which sent his mother’s hands to her ears.