"Brethren, let us thank God that in His infinite perfectness He changeth not. Let us thank Him also that He is changing us, into the likeness of that perfectness. Let us thank Him that the day is at hand when we shall need no further mutation, but shall be with Him, and shall be like Him, for ever."
Then the Friar read from his leather book a portion of the Gospel of St. John in Wycliffe's version: offered another short prayer: blessed his hearers, and departed with rapid steps, like a man who had much work to do, and but little time to do it.
One by one, the little congregation took leave of host and hostess, and passed out into the fresh night air. But the Duke of Exeter sat on: and William Sterys waited his Lord's pleasure. When all were gone, the noble guest rose.
"May I pray you of your name, good master?" he said to Jack.
"Truly, my gracious Lord, it might be bettered. I am but a Goose, at your Lordship's bidding—John Goose, an' it like you."
"I would fain wit, good Master Goose, if you do ever lodge any in your house? Is there a spare chamber that you were willing to let out to any?"
John's eyes went to his grandmother for a reply.
"Well-a-day!" murmured the old woman, apparently rather staggered by the suddenness of the proposition, and requiring some time to consider it. "I scarce can tell. There is the chamber o'er here, that might be cleared forth, and the gear set in the porch-chamber. Yet mefeareth, did we our best, it should scarce be meet for any servant of such as your gracious Lordship."
"I ask it not for my servant; I want it for myself," said the Duke quietly.
Poor Mrs. Goose looked dumb-foundered, as she felt.