he could yet sell. He was ferried across the river, and made his way
in. It was strange to find the streets looking exactly as usual, and
the citizens' wives coming out with their baskets just as if nothing
had happened.

There was the good-natured face of Mistress Lightfoot, who kept a
baker's shop at the sign of the Wheatsheaf, and was their regular
customer.

"Ha, little Kenton, be'st thou there? I'm right glad to see thee.
They said the mad fellows had burnt the farm and made an end of all
of you, but I find 'em civil enow, and I'm happy to see 'twas all
leasing-making."

"It is true, mistress," said Stead, "that they burnt our house and
shot poor father."

"Eh, you don't say so, my poor lad?" and she hurried her kind
questions, tears coming into her eyes, as she thought of the orphans
deserted by their brother. She was very anxious to have Patience
butter-making again and promised to come with Stead to give her
assistance in choosing both a churn and a spinning wheel if he would
come in the next day, for he had not ventured on bringing any money
with him. She bought all his eggs for her lodger, good Doctor Eales,
who could hardly taste anything and had been obliged to live cooped
up in an inner chamber for fear of the Parliament soldiers, who were
misbehaved to Church ministers though civil enough to women; while
these new comers were just the other way, hat in hand to a clergyman,
but apt to be saucy to the lasses. But she hoped the Doctor would
cheer up again, now that the Cathedral was set in order, so far as