"Then I will wait," said the widow, for she had scarcely been able to sleep for thinking of the peril to which her boy might be exposed if it should be true that his master was a Quaker, as he suspected. Dame Lowe would be able to set her fears at rest, she hoped, and the moment the lady entered the room the widow began a recital of her trouble. At first she was too full of what she had to say, and how frightened she had become, to pay much attention to the lady herself, but after a minute or two she noticed that she was trembling, and her face had become as white as the lace ruffle she wore round her neck. "I—I am afraid you are ill, madam," said the widow, stopping short in her recital, and looking hard at the lady. "Just a little faint. I have been anxious about the vicar, you see—but go on with your story. What did your boy say was the name of these children?" The lady spoke eagerly, and looked almost as frightened and anxious as her visitor, though she was careful not to let her know that it arose from the same cause, and spoke of the vicar's illness as being a little alarming, and having upset her. "But tell me about those children who have gone to live at the house in Soper Lane. Who did you say they were?" "Well, now, Sim couldn't be quite sure, of course; but he is a careful lad, and he says there was a Quaker of the same name had his ears cut off for heresy only a day or two ago. Of course, I told Sim that his master, being a godly and charitable man, might have had compassion on these witless children without being himself a Quaker." "Then it is suspected that Dame Drayton and her husband are both Quakers. Is that what you mean, Tompkins?" The lady's mood had changed during the last few moments, and she looked hard at the widow and spoke in a severe tone, as though such a charge as she brought was not to be believed. "I—I don't know what to think," said the widow. "Of course, as Madam Drayton is your sister she could scarcely be infected with such heresy as these wild Quakers believe." "I trow not, indeed. My sister was brought up in a true godly fashion, but the same charity that moved Master Drayton to take Simon as an apprentice without fee or reward, because you were a poor widow known to me to have lost so much by the plague and the great fire, may have moved her to help these poor children, if no one else would do it." "Then you think my Sim would be quite safe there?" said the widow in a deprecating tone. Madam Lowe looked surprised at the question. "Why should he not be safe?" she asked. "You told me the other day that he was learning his trade very well, and had certainly improved in his manners."