“My maid,” she said, “never mind the wilderness. The stones be sharp, and the sun scorching, and the thirst sore: but one sight of the King in the Golden City shall make up for all!”
Note 1. Ten shillings; this was then the largest coin made.
Chapter Eleven.
Unexpected Lodgings.
“Now then, who goes home?” cried the cheerful voice of Mrs Wade, when the sermon was over. “You, Mistress Benold?—you, Alice Mount?—you, Meg Thurston? You’d best hap your mantle well about your head. Mistress Silverside, this sharp even: yon hood of yours is not so thick, and you are not so young as you were once. Now, Adrian Purcas, thee be off with Johnson and Mount; thou’rt not for my money. Agnes Love, woman, I wonder at you! coming out of a November night with no thicker a mantle than that old purple thing, that I’m fair tired of seeing on you. What’s that? ‘Can’t afford a new one?’ Go to Southampton! There’s one in my coffer that I never use now. Here, Doll! wherever is that lazy bones? Gather up thy heels, wilt thou, and run to my great oak coffer, and bring yon brown hood I set aside. Now don’t go and fetch the red one! that’s my best Sunday gear, and thou’rt as like to bring red when I tell thee brown as thou art to eat thy supper.—Well, Alice?”
“I cry you mercy, Hostess, for troubling of you; but Master and me, we’re bidden to lie at the mill. Mistress Ewring’s been that good; but there’s no room for Rose, and—”
“Then Rose can turn in with Dorothy, and I’m fain on’t if she’ll give her a bit of her earnestness for pay. There’s not as much lead to her heels in a twelvemonth as would last Doll a week.—So this is what thou calls a brown hood, is it? I call it a blue apron. Gramercy, the stupidness o’ some folks!”