"Let be! but 'tis queer," said he, rising. "Man's love is merry gear; but God's love is crabbed stuff. 'Tis a strange world, my maids." Both Helen and Anne broke into a peal of laughter; but Mr Flint was grave enough. He walked through the kitchen, and out at the front door, without saying more. "What hath come o'er Father of late?" said Helen. "He is fallen to ask as queer questions as Will." "What know I?" replied Anne, "or care, for the matter of that. Come, Nell, let us sing a bit, to cheer us!" It struck Agnes that there was not much want of cheer in that house; but Helen readily responded to her sister's wish, and they struck up a popular song. "The hunt is up, the hunt is up, The hunt is up and away, And Harry our King is gone hunting, To bring his deer to bay. "The east is bright with morning light, And darkness it is fled, And the merry horn wakes up the morn To leave his idle bed. "Behold the skies with golden dyes Are glowing all around, The grass is green, and so are the treen, All laughing at the sound." The sisters sang well, and Agnes enjoyed the music. This song was followed by others, and Mistress Flint, coming down, joined in; and the eldest son, Ned, made his appearance and did the same, till there was almost a concert. At last Mistress Flint stopped the harmony, by declaring that she could not keep awake five minutes longer; and all parties made the best of their way to bed. Mistress Winter was found, on the following morning, to have recovered as much of her temper as she was usually in the habit of recovering. That Joan had lost hers was nothing new; it was rarely the case that both mother and daughter were in an amiable mood together. The former received Agnes with her customary amenities, merely suggesting, with pleasantry of her own kind, that of course 'twould be too heavy a toil for her gracious madamship to carry the water-pails to Horsepool--the spring in West Smithfield which supplied Cow Lane--and that so soon as she could hear tell of a gentlewoman lacking of a service, she would engage her at ten pound by the month to wait of her worshipfulness. Agnes made no answer in words; she only took up the pails quietly and went out. As she came up to Horsepool, she spied her friend Mistress Flint, bent on a similar errand, coming up Cock Lane. "Dear heart, Agnes!" cried the latter. "Is there none save thee to bear those heavy pails of water? Methinks yon lazy Joan might lift one, and be none the worsen. She hath the strength of a horse, and thou barely so much as a robin." Agnes smiled her thanks for her friend's sympathy, as she let down the water-pails. "I am used to the same, Mistress Flint, I thank you." "Go to,--wert thou at the Cross t' other morrow? Methought I saw thy face in the throng." A light broke over the face, but Agnes only said, "Ay." "How liked thee yon Friar's discourse?" "It liked me well."