“I’ve done all sorts of things to it, and it’s never—Julian, if you touch that clasp, I declare I’ll—Are you married, Stephen?”
“Married, and have one more trouble than you,” answered Stephen laughingly, as he took the clasp from his youthful and inquisitive niece; “but my children are not troublesome, I am thankful to say. I was going to tell you that marsh-mallows makes one of the finest poultices you can have. Pluck it when Jupiter is in the ascendant, and the moon on the wane, and you’ll find it first-rate for easing that foot of yours.—Gilbert, I heard thy mother tell thee not to go up the ladder.”
“Well, what if she did?” demanded Gilbert sulkily. “She’s only a woman.”
“Then she must be obeyed,” said Stephen.
“But who did you marry, for I never—Oh deary me, but it does sting!”
“Now, Anania, I’ll just go to the market and get you some marsh mallow; Selis will come with me to carry it. I’ve to see Aunt Isel yet, and plenty more. Come, Selis.”
“Ha, chétife!—you’ve no sooner come than you’re off again! Who did you marry? That’s what I want to know.”
“The sooner you get that poultice on the better. I may look in again, if I have time. If not, you’ll tell Osbert I’ve been, and all’s well with me.”
Stephen shut the door along with his last word, disregarding Anania’s parting cry of—“But you haven’t told me who your wife is!” and marched Selis off to the market, where he laded him with marsh mallow, and sent him home with strict injunctions not to drop it by the way. Then, laughing to himself at the style wherein he had disposed of Anania, he turned off to Turlgate Street (now the Turl) where Raven Soclin lived.
The first person whom he saw there was his cousin Flemild.