“Ay, I suppose they would,” said Isel sorrowfully.
Stephen ate in silence, sorely tempted to tell her what he knew. Had the danger been for himself only, and not for Ermine, he thought he should certainly have braved it.
“Well!” said Isel at last, as she stood by the fire, giving frequent twirls to the string which held the apples. “Maybe the good Lord is more merciful than men. They haven’t much mercy.”
“Hold you there!” said Stephen.
“Now why shouldn’t we?—we that are all sinners, and all want forgiving? We might be a bit kinder to one another, if we tried.”
“Some folks might. I’m not sure you could, Aunt Isel.”
“Eh, lad, I’m as bad a sinner as other folks. I do pray to be forgiven many a time.”
“Maybe that’s a good help to forgiving,” said Stephen.
“So you’re back from your holiday?” said Haimet, coming in, and flinging his felt hat on one of the shelves. “Well, where did you go?”
“Oh, round-about,” replied Stephen, taking his last mouthful of beans.