John laughed as if the question amused him exceedingly. “Were it possible,” he responded, “that Thomas Rose’s wife should be any thing else?”
The train of visitors was only just beginning. When Isoult came in from the market, feeling very tired and overworked, on the following morning, she found Philippa Basset in her large chair, looking very much at home, while Kate, on her knee, was chattering away to her with the utmost freedom.
“Well, Isoult!” was Philippa’s greeting. “Thou dost well to go a-cheapening of carrots, and leave thy friends that come to visit thee to find none in the house that they know save this,” pointing to Kate. “How dost thou, dear heart?”
“The better to see you, Mrs Philippa,” said she. “I will not ask how you do, for you look rarely well. Verily, I left more in the house than Kate, or I had taken her withal.”
“Isoult, dost thou mean to call me mistress all the days of thy life?” she asked in answer.
“I mean to call you what it list you,” said Isoult, “but truly you never gave me leave to do other.”
“And truly you never asked for it,” replied she. “Howbeit, take it now, prithee, for ever henceforward.”
Isoult thanked her, and asked her “if any news were abroad.”
“Any news, quotha?” she answered. “But a yard or twain. Hast heard that my Lord Protector is not in very good case?”
“Nay!” cried Isoult. “My Lord Protector! what mean you, Mrs Philippa?”