There's naught in it, I'll swear, but some fal-lal about your flowered gown or an old woman's black cat and corner broomstick." Mistress Deborah Darden pressed her thin lips together, and eyed her lord and master with scant measure of conjugal fondness.

"It's about some one nearer home than your bishops and commissaries," she said.

"Hide passed by this morning, going to the river field.

I was in the garden, and he stopped to speak to me.

Mr.Haward is home from England.