Then, not feeling sleepy, I dressed myself as well as I could and went down to the parlor, where I found Lady Thornyhaugh sitting with her wheel on one side of the fire, while Mrs. Alice occupied a similar position on the other, only that she spun with a distaff, or, as she would have said, with a rock and reel. The spindle danced in eccentric circles on the floor, watched by an elfish kitten, and a still more elfish-looking terrier pup, who now and then made a simultaneous dash at it, and falling foul of each other, engaged in a rough-and-tumble game of romps.
"Bairn, why are you not in your bed?" was the greeting I received.
"I was not tired, madam, and as Amabel was asleep, I thought I would come down."
"And is she asleep, poor young thing! So much the better. I fear she will pay dearly for this night's work. I fear she will be ill."
"So do I, madam," I answered. "She seems so shaken, and unlike herself."
"I'm thinking Lucy Corbet, you may as well say 'auntie,'" said the old lady. "You are but a faraway kinswoman is true, but you have been more than a sister to my niece, and 'better kind fremit than fremit kind.' * But if you are not tired, sit down and tell me something more of this strange tale. How did Amabel see this other lad, the young minister?"
* That is, "Better kind strangers than strange kindred."
I told her of our coming to Newcastle, of our meeting with Mr. Wesley and Mr. Cheriton, and the way in which he had rescued the poor preacher's wife from the mob.
"That was bravely done," said the old lady, her eyes kindling. "He will be a fine lad, yon."
"'Tis a pity he is a prelatist, though," said Mrs. Alice; "and abune a' that he should take up with these Methodists—a wheen sectaries I doubt they are."