"I never saw one," I answered. "We were happy in having none of those fearful troubles in our parish, which were so rife in this part of the country some years ago, and all our old women are very harmless folk. I believe Esther has her doubts of Goody Higgins, but that is only because the poor thing, being a papist, never goes to church. No, I don't think I have much belief in witches." "Nor in ghosts?" he asked, smiling. "Are you not just a little afraid of the Halting Knight, when the wind blows hard o' nights? Or have you never heard his story?" "O yes, I have heard all about him," I answered. "I dare not say that I have not sometimes listened for his lame step in the gallery, but I don't think I am much afraid of him, after all. I don't think, to say the truth, that I have it in me to be very much afraid of such things." After that we fell into a pleasant chat till it was time for Betty to go into the house. I have read my letters over and over—the long ones from dear mother and Richard, poor Jacky's short and somewhat blotted scroll, and the printed notes of the twins. I feel as if I had made a visit at home. So many little things can be told by word of mouth, which no one thinks of putting in a letter, and Mr. Corbet seems to have noticed everything, even to poor Punch, our three-legged, or rather three-footed cat, who lost his fore-paw in a rabbit-trap, and whom father would not have killed, but dressed the creature's wounds with his own hands, and nursed him till he got well. He is a wonderful kind gentleman to take so much pains for me. I am so glad he and Richard took so to each other. It would seem but natural that they should, thinking so much alike on many subjects, but one can never guess beforehand how such things will turn out. Richard says he makes progress in his studios, and that Master Smith is kind and generous as ever. He still hears much of public affairs, and I can see that he does not like the complexion of them, and doth fear much trouble and discontent, arising from the high-handed proceedings of the Archbishop and the Star Chamber. He writes me that Mr. Prynne, the barrister, an old friend of my father's, and one who hath been many times at our house since my remembrance, is in prison, and like to fare badly. He was always a bugbear to us children, with his sour, austere face, and his perpetual arguments with my father, wherein he was ofttimes so sharp and rude that a less sweet-tempered man would have at the least declined his acquaintance. But my father always said there was much good in him, and I know that he was ever liberal in giving to the poor. I shall be sorry to hear of any great harm coming to him, poor man. It seems he hath writ a book concerning stage plays, whereat the Court are much offended. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VI. _MAKING PROGRESS._ _July 9._