The Kings Daughters | Page 4

Master Clere--he's got no
stay in him. I doubt he's but one of your fair-weathered folks, that'll
side with Truth when she steps bravely forth in her satin gown and her
velvet slippers; but when she comes in a threadbare gown and old
clouted shoes, then she's not for their company. There's a many of that
sort."
"And you think Master Clere's one?" said Margaret, in a tone which
sounded as if she did not think so.
"I'm feared he is. I'd not say it if there wasn't need. But if you see Bess
afore I do--and you are more like, for you go into town oftener--do
drop a word to her to be prudent."
"Tell Elizabeth Foulkes to be prudent!" exclaimed Margaret, laughing.
"Nay, that were carrying coals to Newcastle!"
"Well, and the day may come for that, if the pits there be used up. Meg,
have you ne'er noted that folks oftener come to trouble for want of their
chief virtue than from overdoing it?"

"Nay, Alice, nor I don't think it, neither."
"Well, let be!" said Alice, shifting the basket to her other arm. "Them
that lives 'll see it."
"But what mean you touching Mistress Amy! You said you were feared
she'd make trouble for Bess."
"Ay, I am: but that's another matter. We've fault-found enough for one
even. Who be them two afore us?"
"What, those bits of children? Why, they're two of Jack Johnson's, of
Thorpe."
"They look as if they'd got too much to carry," said Alice, as they came
up to the children. They were now about half way to Bentley.
The younger, a boy of about six, held one ear of a large jar full of meal,
and the other was carried by his sister, whose apparent age was eight.
They were plodding slowly along, as if afraid of spilling their meal, for
the jar was pretty full.
"Well, Cis, thou hast there a load!" was Margaret's greeting.
The little girl turned her head to see who spoke, but she only said
gravely, "Ay." A very grave, demure little maiden she seemed to be.
"Whither go you?" asked Alice Mount.
"We're going home," said the small boy.
"What, a matter of five miles, with that jar? Why, you'll drop in the
road! Couldn't nobody have fetched it but you?"
"There wasn't nobody," said the little boy; and his sister looked up to
say, in her grave way,--
"You know Mother's gone to Heaven."

"And who looks after you?"
"Will looks after Baby," answered Cissy demurely, "and I look after
Will."
"And who looks after thee?" asked Alice much amused.
"I'm older than I look," replied Cissy, drawing herself up; but she was
not big enough to go far.
"I'm nine--going in ten. I can make porridge, and clean the room and
wash Baby. And Will's learning to wash himself, and then he'll be off
my hands."
It was irresistibly funny to hear this small mite talk like a woman, for
she was very small of her age; and Alice and Margaret could not help
laughing.
"Well, but thou knowest thou canst not do a many things that must be
done. Who takes care of you all? I dare be bound thou does thy best:
but somebody there must be older than thee. Who is it now?"
"Have you e'er an aunt or a grandmother?" added Margaret.
Cissy looked up quietly into Alice's face.
"God takes care of us," she said. "Father helps when his work's done;
but when he's at work, God has to do it all. There's nobody but God."
Alice and Margaret looked at each other in astonishment.
"Poor little souls!" cried Margaret.
"Oh, but we aren't!" said Cissy, rather more eagerly. "God looks after
us, you know. He's sure to do it right, Father says so."
Alice Mount laid her hand softly on Cissy's head.
"Ay, little maid, God will do it right," she said. "But maybe He'd let me

help too, by nows and thens. Thou knowest the Black Bear at Much
Bentley--corner of lane going down to Thorpe?"
Yes, Cissy knew the Black Bear, as her face showed.
"Well, when thou gets to the Black Bear, count three doors down the
lane, and thou'lt see a sign with a bell. That's where I live. Thee rap at
the door, and my daughter shall go along with you to Thorpe, and help
to carry the meal too. Maybe we can find you a sup of broth or milk
while you rest you a bit."
"Oh, thank you!" said Cissy in her grown-up way. "That will be good.
We'll come."
CHAPTER THREE.
ROSE.
"Poor little souls!" repeated Margaret Thurston, when the children were
out of hearing.
Alice Mount looked back, and saw the small pair still toiling slowly on,
the big