"I reckon 'tis a bit o' t'other side," saith _Madge_, with her eyes gleaming. But when I came to kiss her the next minute, quoth she--"Mistress _Milisent_, saw ye e'er Mistress _Joyce_ when she had doffed her?" "Ay, _Madge_," said I, marvelling what notion was now in her poor brain. "And," saith she, "be there any wings a-growing out of her shoulders? Do tell me. I'd like to know how big they were by now." "Nay, _Madge_; I never saw any." "No did ye?" quoth she, in a disappointed tone. "I thought they'd have been middling grown by now. But may-be He keeps th' wings till we've got yon? Ay, I reckon that's it. She'll have 'em all right, some day." And _Madge_ seemed satisfied. SELWICK HALL, FEBRUARY YE XVI. Yester-morn, Dr _Bell_ being at church, _Mother_ was avised to ask him, if it might stand with his conveniency, to look in on _Madge_ the next time he rideth that way, and see if aught might be done for her. He saith in answer that he should be a-riding to _Thirlmere_ early this morrow, and would so do: and this even, on his way home, he came in hither to tell _Mother_ his thought thereon. 'Tis even as we feared, for he saith there is no doubt that _Madge_ is dying, nor shall she overlive many days. But right sorry were we to hear him say that he did marvel if she or _Blanche Lewthwaite_ should go the first. "Why, Doctor!" saith _Mother_, "I never reckoned _Blanche_ so far gone as that." "May-be not when you saw her, Lady _Lettice_," saith he. "But--women be so perverse! Why, the poor wretch might have lived till this summer next following, or even (though I scarce think it) have tided o'er another winter, but she must needs take it into her foolish head to rush forth into the garden, to say a last word to somebody, a frosty bitter even some ten days back, with never so much as a kerchief tied o'er her head; and now is she laid of her bed, as was the only thing like, and may scarce breathe with the inflammation of her lungs. She _may_ win through, but verily I look not for it." "Poor heart! I will go and see her," saith _Mother_. "Ay, do so," saith he. "Poor foolish soul!--as foolish in regard of her health as of her happiness." This even, I being the first in our chamber, was but making ready my gown with a clean partlet [ruff] for to-morrow, when _Mother_ come in. "_Milly_," she saith, "I shall go (if the Lord will) to see _Blanche_ to-morrow, and I would have thee go withal." I guess _Mother_ saw that I did somewhat shrink from the thought. In truth, though I have seen _Blanche_ in church, and know how she looketh, yet I have never yet spoke with her sithence she came home, and I feel fearful, as though I were going into a chamber where was somewhat might hurt me.