“It was likely afeard of his big ruffling words!” said Dr Thorpe.
The letter concluded thus:—“With the which considerations, I do commit your Honour to the tuition of God. Inscribed at Bodmin, die Veneris, the fourth in the month of October. By the hand of your Honour’s most undemeritous and obeisant paedagogus, Simon Pendexter.”
“This companion is clean out of his wits!” exclaimed Dr Thorpe.
“Isoult, read thy little letter,” said John. “Metrusteth it shall be more clear than Simon’s, and, at all charges, ’tis shorter.”
“Unto Mistress Avery, At the Minories in London.”
“Mistress,—This shall be to advertise you (my lowly duties first remembered), that the fourteenth of July come unto Bradmond the ill men you wot of, and after casting mine husband and me forth of the house with little gentleness, did spread themselves thereabout, drinking up the wine in the cellar, and otherwise making great bruit and disorder. And in the end they set fire thereto, and departed. God helping us, we shortly had the fire under, for it began to rain; but the whole house is ruinated, and a deal of mischief done. Mistress, all the hangings be burned or torn, and the furniture is but splinters; and the very walls so knocked about, and the garden all trampled and desolated, that I am well assured, were you this minute on the ground you should not find conveniency to enter and abide for many a long day yet. And in good sooth, ’twill lack a mint of money spent thereon ere the house be meet for any, let be a gentleman and gentlewoman of your honourableness. Mistress, they tare away all the shutters, and tare up the planks of some of the floors: and they left not a latch nor an andiron whole in all the house. Mine husband hath writ to Mr Avery. From Bodmin, this fourth day of October. Mistress, I do beseech you of your gentleness to give my poor sister to know that I do fare well, and trust so doth she likewise.
“By the rude hand of her that is your servant, Marian Pendexter.”
“Rude hand!” said John. “Commend me to Marian Pendexter for the writing of a letter. ’Tis one-half so long as Simon’s, and tells us twice so much as he; and her round letters be as clear as print, while his be all quips and flourishes. Well, I account we shall needs abide hither for some time, Isoult; but methinks I must ride home, and see how matters stand; and if the garden be truly desolated as for roses and the like, well, the ground may as well be set with carrots and cabbages, that can be sold. And on my return hither, I must set me, as fast as I may, unto the making of pecunia, as Simon hath it, in my calling. Metrusteth the house shall not need to be pulled down and built up again; for that should take, methinks, some years to raise. Howbeit, ’tis no good looking forward too far.”
Dr Thorpe said, when he had sat for a time in silence, “Ah, well! the will of the Lord be done! I trow they shall scantly burn mine other house, in that city which hath foundations.”
“Mr Edward Underhill, the Hot Gospeller.”