Dr Chedsey meanwhile had occupied himself in writing out an order for the children to be delivered to Ursula, to which he affixed the seal of the Commission. Armed with this paper, and having taken leave of the Commissioners, with many protests that she would “do her duty,” Ursula made her way to the Castle gate.
“Who walks so late?” asked the porter, looking out of his little wicket to see who it was.
“Good den, Master Style. I am James Felstede’s wife of Thorpe, and I come with an order from their Worships the Commissioners to take Johnson’s children to me; they be to dwell in my charge till the Black Sisters shall send for them.”
“Want ’em to-night?” asked the porter rather gruffly.
“Well, what say you?—are they abed? I’m but a poor woman, and cannot afford another walk from Thorpe. I’d best take ’em with me now.”
“You’re never going back to Thorpe to-night?”
“Well, nay. I’m going to tarry the night at my brother’s outside East Gate.”
“Bless the woman! then call for the children in the morning, and harry not honest folk out o’ their lives at bed-time.”
And Style dashed the wicket to.
“Now, then, Kate! be those loaves ready? The rogues shall be clamouring for their suppers,” cried he to his wife.