“And that is better than he deserves,” she ended. “Look you, husband, I am resolved. That evil beast shall not remain here with Joan. Thou knowest that my nay is ever nay.”
Elyas looked very grave, but made no answer. Hugh was idle, and no rebellion against Franklyn could be permitted, yet his kind heart ached for the fatherless little fellow who had taken his fancy from the first. He would not interfere with the punishment, but he resolved that when supper was over, he would go upstairs and see whether he could not mend matters. And he was a little distraught throughout the long supper, whereat Joan reigned like a veritable queen, and, it must be owned, tyrannised in some degree over her subjects. She rather vexed her mother by demanding the new boy. Father had talked to her of him, and had told her of a wonderful little beast with a face like an old man’s, and hands to hold things by; she would love to see him—where was he, why didn’t he come to supper?
“Think not of him, Joan,” said her mother quickly at last. “He is no playfellow for thee. He would bite and terrify thee.”
This caused an interval of pondering, and Prothasy fondly hoped of impression, but presently Mistress Joan lifted her little golden head.
“I want him,” she said. “I would kiss him.” Prothasy looked reproachfully at her husband, who was smiling.
The supper, as has been said, was long, and before it was finished Joan, tired out with excitement, was leaning against her father’s arm, asleep. He lifted her tenderly and carried her to their room, where she slept, and where she was soon lying in her little crib, looking fairer than ever. Husband and wife stood gazing at her with overfull hearts, and Elyas, ever large in sympathies, let his thoughts go out to the wood-carver who had cared so much for his boy, and wished he could have taken Hugh with him that day, or that he could talk him into readier obedience to Franklyn. He was very desirous to temper justice with mercy when he left Joan and went to seek Hugh.
It surprised him exceedingly to get no answer to his call. He lifted the light and looked round the room in vain, nor was Agrippa to be seen overhead among the rafters. It was possible that Hugh had slipped out and stayed thus late, but he had never done it before, and it was seven o’clock, dark and raining. Elyas began to feel very uneasy. He sought his wife, called Franklyn, who had not left the house, and questioned the other apprentices. Roger never paid any attention to Hugh, treating him as a little boy, whom it would be waste of time to notice; Wat reported that he had invited him to go out with him, but got no answer.
“He had never seen a man in the pillory, either, and here were three,” added Wat cheerfully.
Quick compunction seized Prothasy, though rather for her husband’s sake than Hugh’s; she said little, but ran hastily about the house, and even out into the wet yard, where, however, Franklyn had been before her, and then she stood in the doorway, looking up and down the street. Her husband’s voice behind startled her.
“He hath run away,” he said gravely.