"And they have children, Gilbert," said his wife in a pitying tone, lifting her eyes wistfully to her husband's face, as if mutely asking what they were to do for these.
He understood the look.
"We will ask counsel of the Lord first, and the inner voice will teach us what we ought to do," he said gravely. And as he spoke he turned down a passage leading to his workshop, while his wife went into the kitchen to superintend the preparation of dinner.
As they silently pursued their daily tasks, each lifted their heart to God for guidance, and then listened for the voice of the Holy Spirit to show them what they ought to do.
Two little girls were being taught meanwhile how to help in chopping suet, washing currants, and pounding savoury herbs, which would all be required for dinner. They understood, when they saw their mother close her eyes for a moment, that they were not to talk or ask questions; but before the morning tasks were over, they were startled by being asked whether they would like some brothers and sisters to come and live with them.
"Will they be 'prentices?" inquired the elder, a girl of ten or twelve.
"Why dost thee ask that, Betty?" said her mother.
"Because 'prentices eat so much bread. Deb says she will have to bake and brew again to-morrow, they eat so much."
"Poor Deb is nathless weary, or she would not grudge the labour, since the Lord hath sent meal and malt sufficient for all our wants. That is why thee must learn to do what thee can in the kitchen when thou art not learning from the horn book—that must by no means be neglected. Now, Betty, if thou bast finished those currants, thee may take Hannah and help her with her lesson until I can come to thee."
"But thou hast not told us about the new brothers and sisters," said the younger, a little fair-haired girl whose curls could not be persuaded to lie hidden under the close linen cap, but would peep out all round neck and face, in a fashion that annoyed Dame Drayton sometimes.