“Oh no, my dear.”
“Then how could he pray?” said Rhoda. “He’d no business to read the Prayer-Book; and of course he couldn’t pray without it.”
“Ah, then he made a mistake,” replied Mrs Dorothy very quietly. “He fancied he could.”
“But who ever heard of such a thing?” said Rhoda.
“We heard a good deal of it in those days, my dear. Why, child, the Common Prayer was forbid, even in the churches. Nobody used it, save a few here and there, that chose to run the risk of being found out and punished.”
“How queer!” cried Rhoda. “Well, go on, Mrs Dolly. I hope the prayers weren’t long. I should have wanted my breakfast.”
“They were usually about three parts of an hour.”
“Ugh!” with a manufactured shudder, came from Rhoda.
“After prayers, for an hour, each went to her calling. Commonly we took it turn about, the girls and I—one with the mistress in the kitchen, one with the maids in the chambers, and the third, if the weather was fine, a-weeding the posies in the garden, or, if wet, at her sewing in the parlour. Then the great bell was rung for breakfast, and we all gathered again in the kitchen. For breakfast were furmety, eggs, and butter, and milk, for the women; cold bakemeats and ale for the men.”
“No tea?” asked Rhoda.