Howbeit, matters were worser in the shires and down south than up hither. Old Bishop _Tunstall_ was best of all the _Papist_ Bishops, for though he flustered much (and as some thought, to save himself from suspicion of them in power), yet he did little more. I well-nigh gat mine head into a noose, for it ne'er was my way to carry my flag furled, and Father _Slatter_, that was then priest at _Minster Lovel_, as I know, had my name set of his list of persons suspect. Once come the catchpoll to mine house,--I wis not on what business, for, poor man! he tarried not to tell me when I come at him with the red-hot poker. I never wist a man yet, would stand a red-hot poker with a woman behind it that meant it for him. Master Catchpoll were wise enough to see that the penny is well spent that saveth a groat, and he gave me leave to see little more of him than his flying skirts and the nails of his boots-- and his hat, that he left behind of his hurry, the which I sent down to my mistress his wife with mine hearty commendations, and hope he had catched no cold. I reckon he preferred the risk of that to the surety of catching a red-hot poker. But that giving me warning of what might follow--as a taste of a dish whereof more should be anon laid on my trencher--up-stairs went I, and made up my little bundle, and the next night that ever was, away came I of an horse behind old _Dickon_, that had been sewer ever since _Father_ and _Mother_ were wed, then five-and-thirty years gone, and Father _Slatter_ might whistle for me, as I reckon he did when he heard it. It were an hard journey and a cold, for it were winter, but the snow was our true friend in covering all tracks, and at long last came I safe hither, in the middle of the night, and astonied _Aubrey_ and _Lettice_ more than a little by casting of snowballs at their chamber window. At the last come the casement undone, and _Aubrey's_ voice saith-- "Is there any in trouble?" "Here is a poor maid, by name _Joyce Morrell_," said I, "that will be in trouble ere long if thou leave her out in this snowstorm." Good lack, but was there no ado when my voice were known! The hall fire embers were stirren up, and fresh logs cast thereon, and in ten minutes was I sat afore it of a great chair, with all the blankets in _Cumberland_ around and over me, and a steaming hot posset-bowl of mine hand. It was a mile or so too far, I reckon, for Father _Slatter_ to trudge after me, and if he had come, I'd have serven him of the poker, or twain if need be. I guess he should have loved rather to flounder back through the snow.