“I’m not quite so sure of it, Ursula Felstede: but let be. You’ve Johnson’s children here, haven’t you?”
“Ay, I have so: and I tell you that Will’s a handful! Seems to me he’s worser to rule than he used. He’s getting bigger, trow.”
“And Cicely?”
“Oh, she’s quiet enough, only a bit obstinate. Won’t always do as she’s told. I have to look after her sharp, or she’d be off, I do believe.”
“I’d like to see her, an’t please you.”
“Well, to be sure! I sent ’em out to play them a bit. I don’t just know where they are.”
“Call that looking sharp after ’em?”
Ursula laughed a little uneasily.
“Well, one can’t be just a slave to a pack of children, can one? I’ll look out and see if they are in sight.”
“Thank you, I’ll do that, without troubling you. Now, Ursula Felstede, I’ve one thing to say to you, so I’ll say it and get it over. Those children of Johnson’s have the Lord’s wings over them: they’ll be taken care of, be sure: but if you treat them ill, or if you meddle with what their father learned them, you’ll have to reckon with Him instead of the Queen’s Commissioners. And I’d a deal sooner have the Commissioners against me than have the Lord. Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do but fear Him which after He hath killed, hath power to cast into Hell. Yea, I say unto thee, Fear Him!”