"Well, I must say, I wonder my father should give so largely to her—a woman whose husband died without the sacrament, and suspected strongly of heresy," said Anne.
"And suppose her husband was a heretic, is that any reason his widow should starve?" demanded her father with some heat. "Or is there any reason why I should not do what I will with mine own, or why my own daughter should take me to task in the open shop?"
Anne colored deeply. "I meant no offence, father, only—"
"Only thou art a peevish wench, and I am a fool to be ruffled by thee," said the baker, recovering his good humor. "Come, look at Jack's medal."
Anne regarded the medal with a mournful expression, not as if she were at all interested in it, but as obeying a command of her father's. "Tis a great honor, no doubt," said she, "but the honors of this world are hardly worth striving after."
"By'r Lady! But they are," said her father. "Another such victory makes Jack an Oxford scholar, and that is worth striving after in more ways than one. But thou art ever a wet blanket," he muttered between his teeth, "taking no pleasure thyself, and doing all thou canst to damp that of other people. Come, son, drink your wine and eat this manchet therewith, to stay your appetite till supper. And do you, Cicely, provide us with right good cheer this night, and send the 'prentice boy to bid my old crony, Master Luttrell, and his wife, to sup with us. They will be glad to hear of Jack's good fortune—eh, my lad? But you look worse and worse. Cicely, bring some of the cordial I got from Captain Davis."
"I should like to go to bed, father, if you please," interrupted Jack, trying to rouse himself. "My head is so heavy and drowsy, I shall be no good company for anybody. I dare say I shall feel better after a good night's rest."
"To be sure, dear lad. Sleep is everything—worth all the doctors in the world. Anne, get your brother's room ready, and make his bed comfortably. Yes, go to bed, my son, and sleep well, with thy father's blessing upon thee," added Master Lucas, laying his broad hand on the boy's head, while an expression of gentle benignity made his honest, open face still more attractive. "This I will say for thee, that from the day of thy birth till now thou hast never wittingly grieved thy father's heart, or given him a moment's uneasiness."
Jack took his father's hand in his own thin fingers and kissed it. "I should be a wretch indeed, to grieve you, father. You have been father and mother both to me ever since my mother died. I only wish I could do more for you in return."
"Tut, tut, lad! What could any one expect of you more than you have done? Only get well and strong, and never fear but you will do enough. Anne, why do you not see to the lad's chamber, instead of standing there like an image of stone?"