"Nathless you will remember her again when you see her," said Dame Lowe, in answer to her daughter's puzzled look. "I want you to go to her this afternoon, and say that the Widow Tompkins, who is the mother of one of her husband's 'prentice lads, hath been here with a tale about Quakers that is disgraceful to any godly household." "The Widow Tompkins is always in a fright about something," returned Audrey slightingly. "What did she say about the Quakers and my Aunt Martha? What has she to do with them?" "Nothing, I wot; but Master Drayton, her husband, is not always so discreet as he should be, and Simon hath brought home some tale to his mother about Quaker children being harboured in the house. Your aunt ought to be told that this is known, and will soon become the talk of the town if they are not sent away." "Would you like me to bring the children here, mother, to save Aunt Martha the trouble of them?" The lady looked at her daughter, aghast with horror at the proposal. "Audrey, you must not speak so lightly of such matters. For us to be suspected of any touch with these Quakers would mean ruin, and we might be thrown out of house and home, like so many clergymen's families have been, for it is known that your father always felt they were unjustly treated, though he signed the declaration that saved us from being turned into the streets like beggars. This is why I want you to go and see your aunt to-day, for if people think the Draytons are Quakers they may suspect us next. Oh dear! why will people go wild about religion like this man Fox? It is sure to bring disgrace upon somebody. As if the fire and the plague had not caused misery enough in London, they must now begin making fresh trouble about religion, just as I hoped things were getting more settled and comfortable." "Mother dear, do not look so troubled about this. Surely God can take care of us and of London too. How is my father now?" "Not much better, and I do not want him to hear about this, or it will make him anxious and unfit to catechise the children in church on Sunday morning. Now, Audrey, we shall have dinner at eleven, and then I should like you to go to your aunt, who lives in Soper Lane, and you can see for yourself who these Quaker children are, and find out whether your aunt still goes to the parish church, for I hear these fanatics call it a steeple-house, and will by no means join in the prayers as they are set forth in the prayer-book."