Mary Bosanquet cast a glance at her audience and answered the maid aloud, "Oh, we do not mind mobs when we are about our Master's business. 'Greater is He that is for us than all that can be against us.'" Then calmly she continued her subject, unhindered by any. Having upon her table a few copies of the simple "Rules for the Society of the People called Methodists," she handed one of them to each of the four ringleaders, begging their acceptance that at their leisure they might see the nature of the profession made by the worshippers. They received them with respectful bows, and no more was heard of "mobs" for that night. The house was a lonely one, open on one side to the forest, and in it at that time lived only Mary Bosanquet, Mrs. Ryan, a maid, and Sally Lawrence, a little child of four years, whom Miss Bosanquet had taken from her mother's coffin to her own warm care. When the nights became dark, a disorderly crowd would gather at the gate to pelt the worshippers with dirt, afterwards invading the yard to reach the unshuttered windows, where they would roar like so many wild beasts. But the protecting hand of God kept them from any real bodily harm. "The Lord was with us," wrote the lady of the house most sweetly, "and preserved us under Love's almighty shade." Little Sally was the first of many orphans who followed. Through various misfortunes and deaths around her, Miss Bosanquet quickly found herself mothering six of them. The number grew until twenty children and several grown people found a home beneath her hospitable roof at one time. This family involved much nursing, for there were never more than six in the house in perfect health. Miss Bosanquet adopted for the whole household what was almost a uniform of dark purple cotton; she fed them upon simple diet, kept them to regular hours for meals and employment, trained the children for service, and nursed sick people until they were well. Hers was indeed a House of Mercy! CHAPTER XIV. A SEEKER AFTER GOD. Five years had passed since Fletchcr entered Madeley as its Vicar, and with the result of his labours he was anything but satisfied. Of the fifth year he wrote: "This last year has been the worst I have had here--barren in convictions, fruitful in backslidings." And to the same correspondent (Miss Hatton, of Wem) he wrote later:-- "The coming of Mr. Wesley's preachers into my parish gives me no uneasiness. As I am sensible that everybody does better, and is more acceptable than myself, I should be sorry to deprive anyone of a blessing; and I rejoice that the work of God goes on, by _any instrument_, or in _any place_." This was characteristic of him--ever depreciative of self, and rejoicing in other men's labours.