Will knelt down beside the bed, and did as he was told in a shrill, sing-song voice. Odd prayers they were; but in those days nobody knew any better, and most children were taught to say still queerer things. First came the Lord’s Prayer: so far all was right. Then Will repeated the Ten Commandments and the Creed, which are not prayers at all, and finished with this formula:—
“Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
Bless the bed that I lie on:
Four corners to my bed,
Four angels at their head;
One to read, and one to write,
And one to guard my bed at night.
“And now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray that Christ my soul may keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray that Christ my soul may take;
Wake I at morn, or wake I never,
I give my soul to Christ for ever.”
After this strange jumble of good things and nonsense, Will jumped into bed, where the baby was already laid. It was Cissy’s turn next. Ever since it had been so summarily arranged by Mrs Wade that the children were to stay the night at the King’s Head, Cissy had been looking preternaturally solemn. Now, when she was desired to say her prayers, as a prelude to going to bed, Cissy’s lip quivered, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Why, little maid, what ails thee?” asked Rose.
“It’s Father,” said Cissy, in an unsteady voice. “I don’t know however Father will manage without me. He’ll have to dress his own supper. I only hope he’ll leave the dish for me to wash when I get home. No body never put Father and me asunder afore!”
“Little maid,” answered Elizabeth, “Mistress Wade meant to save thee the long walk home.”
“Oh, I know she meant it kind,” replied Cissy, “and I’m right thankful: but, please, I’d rather be tired than Father be without me. We’ve never been asunder afore—never!”