"Ay, but as to that, I think I had better order me by Master Marshman's counsel. And, methinks, if you do indeed drive me forth, it were well to set us a rendezvous in his house. And yet I know not--'tis scarce fitting to take you there! But you are a brave lady, and count to face bears and wolves in New England; perchance Master Marshman will not make you afeared. But, sweet sister, be warned, I pray you, and when you come there, heed not Master Marshman's looks and address, for his words are oftentimes harsh, but 'tis only the bitter rind of a most noble kernel. He is of a most generous spirit, and spends all his goods in alms, even bestowing his help on Quakers and Anabaptists, though he reproves their errors roundly. For indeed he is so very valiant for truth, or what he holds as such, that he never tempers his warfare with any of the softnesses of peace. Through fair weather and foul he has held fast to his Presbyterian doctrines, and for them did he suffer as much at the hand of Cromwell's men as he did in the old church days when the Bishop of Norwich cast him into jail for holding of conventicles. He doth rage at some for their love of bishops, and at others for heresy, and at others for the killing of the king, and as for his congregation, he holds them in such subjection that the rule of Archbishop Laud was tender to his." "Oh, I know him well by report," laughed Audrey; "but if he gives my brother safe hiding I will forgive him some hard words. My grandfather never rode into Lynn without bringing back some tale of Master Marshman's supremacy, though, indeed, I think he must have invented the best part of them, for he had a merry wit. He loved above all things to carry such tales to our vicar, and he would always end with, 'Now, Parson Cholmondeley, confess that even a Roundhead spake truth when Mr. Milton wrote, 'New Presbyter is but old priest writ large;' and Parson Cholmondeley always answered pat, 'Ay, ay, Presbyterian and Independent, fight dog, fight cat.' Parson Cholmondeley could not abide Mr. Milton, and when Parliament turned him out of the vicarage and he came to live with us, I hid all Mr. Milton's poems in grandfather's chamber for fear the good man should vex himself to come on them in the study. He always read us the Church prayers morning and evening, and the folks said when Mr. Marshman heard tell---- Ah, see," she shrieked, breaking off, "they are coming! they are coming! my fears were true. Fly, fly to the attic. I will keep the constables at bay a while;" and Audrey rushed to the hearth and, seizing the tongs, she set up such a clattering and rattling among the great logs on the hearth that Harrison's flying footsteps upstairs were drowned as completely as were the repeated knocks at the door. After a while she condescended to notice the thundering blows, and crossing the kitchen leisurely she opened the door, and looked with somewhat contemptuous