“And who told you to plait rushes, Master Impudence? Take that.” That was a sound box on the ear which Ursula delivered by way of illustration to her remarks. “What’s become o’ Phil Tye? I thought he was going to look after thee.”
“Well, he did, a bit: then he and Jem Morris went off bird-nesting.”
“I’ll give it him when I see him! Where’s Cicely?”
“She’s somewhere,” said Will, looking round the cottage, as if he expected to see her in some corner.
“I reckon I could have told thee so much. Did Mistress Wade find you?”
“She was down at the brook: but she went after Cis.”
“Well, thou’lt have to go to bed first thing, for them clothes must be washed.”
Will broke into a howl. “It isn’t bed-time nor it isn’t washing-day!”
“It’s bed-time when thou’rt bidden to go. As to washing-day, it’s always washing-day where thou art. Never was such a boy, I do believe, for getting into the mud. Thou’rt worser ten times o’er than thou wert. I do wish lads ’d stop babes till they’re men, that one could tuck ’em in the cradle and leave ’em! There’s never a bit of peace! I would the Black Ladies ’d come for you. I shall be mighty thankful when they do, be sure.”
“Mistress Wade ’ll have us,” suggested Master William, briskly, looking up at Ursula.