Under the Storm | Page 2

hill just below where Steadfast stood, and had a little
clear stream running along the bottom.
Steadfast's little herd knew the time of day as well as if they all had
watches in their pockets, and they never failed to go down and have a
drink at the brook before going back to the farmyard.
They did not need to be driven, but gathered into the rude steep path
that they and their kind had worn in the side of the ravine. Steadfast
followed, looking about him to judge how soon the nuts would be ripe,
while his little rough stiff-haired dog Toby poked about in search of
rabbits or hedgehogs, or the like sport.
Steadfast liked that pathway home beside the stream, as boys do love
running water. Good stones could be got there, water rats might be
chased, there were strawberries on the banks which he gathered and
threaded on stalks of grass for his sisters, Patience and Jerusha. They
used to come with him and have pleasant games, but it was a long time
since Patience had been able to come out, for in the winter, a grievous
trouble had come on the family. The good mother had died, leaving a

little baby of six weeks old, and Patience, who was only thirteen, had to
attend to everything at home, and take care of poor little sickly Benoni
with no one to help her but her little seven years old sister.
The children's lives had been much less bright since that sad day; and
Steadfast seldom had much time for play. He knew he must get home
as fast as he could to help Patience in milking the cows, feeding the
pigs and poultry, and getting the supper, or some of the other things
that his elder brother Jephthah called wench-work and would not do.
He could not, however, help looking up at the hole in the side of the
steep cliff, where one might climb up to such a delightful cave, in
which he and Patience had so often played on hot days. It had been
their secret, and a kind of palace to them. They had sat there as king
and queen, had paved it with stones from the brook, and had had many
plans for the sports they would have there this summer, little thinking
that Patience would have been turned into a grave, busy little housewife,
instead of a merry, playful child.
Toby looked up too, and began to bark. There was a rustling in the
bushes below the cave, and Steadfast, at first in dismay to see his secret
delight invaded, beheld between the mountain ash boughs and ivy, to
his great surprise, a square cap and black cassock tucked up, and then a
bit of brown leathern coat, which he knew full well. It was the Vicar,
Master Holworth, and his father John Kenton was Churchwarden, so it
was no wonder to see him and the Parson together, but what could
bring them here--into Steadfast's cave? and with a dark lantern too!
They seemed as surprised, perhaps as vexed as he was, at the sight of
him, but his father said, "'Tis my lad, Steadfast, I'll answer for him."
"And so will I," returned the clergyman. "Is anyone with you, my boy?"
"No, your reverence, no one save the beasts."
"Then come up here," said his father. "Someone has been playing here,
I see."
"Patience and I, father, last summer."
"No one else?"
"No, no one. We put those stones and those sticks when we made a fire
there last year, and no one has meddled with them since."
"Thou and Patience," said Mr. Holworth thoughtfully. "Not Jephthah
nor the little maid?"
"No, sir," replied Steadfast, "we would not let them know, because we

wanted a place to ourselves."
For in truth the quiet ways and little arrangements of these two had
often been much disturbed by the rough elder brother who teased and
laughed at them, and by the troublesome little sister, who put her
fingers into everything.
The Vicar and the Churchwarden looked at one another, and John
Kenton muttered, "True as steel."
"Your father answers for you, my boy," said the Vicar. "So we will e'en
let you know what we are about. I was told this morn by a sure hand
that the Parliament men, who now hold Bristol Castle, are coming to
deal with the village churches even as they have dealt with the minster
and with St. Mary's, Redcliffe."
"A murrain on them!" muttered Kenton.
"I wot that in their ignorance they do it," gently quoted the Vicar. "But
we would fain save from their hands the holy Chalice and paten which
came down to our Church from the ancient times--and which bearing
on them, as they