"And so it is to the farmers, especially since the winter hath been so wet," replied the old woman, "but these east winds rack my poor old bones sadly. However," she added, with her pleasant smile, "I reckon, children, 'tis the old bones which are in fault more than the weather. I dare say the east wind doesn't trouble you." "How old are you, Goody?" I ventured to ask. "I was ninety-eight my last birthday, my dear. I was a good big girl when the great Queen Elizabeth came to the throne, and I well remember when I was a little thing, like your Jacky, seeing the fires lighted which were to burn two poor men at the stake, for reading their English Bibles. Ah! Children, you don't know what it is to live in troublous times. But those were grand days, too—grand days!" she repeated, and her old face did so light up as she spoke. "'Twas a new world, as it might be, what with the discoveries by sea and land, and fighting the Spaniards, and the spread of the True Gospel all over the land. Why, children, I remember when a copy of Holy Scripture was like treasure hid in a field. They that had it, kept it with jealous care, and resorted to it with fear and trembling, yet with heartfelt joy, knowing that it as good as sealed their death-warrant if found in their hands. Then came the days of Queen Elizabeth, when we dwelt under our own vines and fig-trees, as it were, and none to make us afraid. Then the ships went away beyond seas. "My master he sailed with Captain Drake, as was the first Englishman who went round the world—sailed away, and left me a six months wife, to tend his widowed mother, that was ever the best of mothers to me. Eh dear! 'Twas weary waiting and never knowing whether he were dead or alive. My oldest child was two years old and more before it ever saw its father's face. But back he came at last, and brought what kept us comfortable for many a long year. But all is gone now—the gold, and the brave sailor lad, and all my fair children—and I shall soon follow. These be good and quiet times, children, but not like those days." "None so quiet, either; what with Star Chamber prosecutions, and fines, and the ship-money, and the troubles in Ireland," said Dick, who hears all the news, being as it were at head-quarters in Master Smith's shop. "There is trouble enough, both at home and abroad, and many even fear a civil war." "I trust I shall not live to see it," said Goody Crump. "Few and evil—no, but I'll not say that, either!" said she, catching herself up. "'Tis true, I have seen many and sad changes, but I've had my share of happiness, too. And 'tis no small thing to have such a snug harbor in which to end my days at last, with the church near by, and kind friends to close my eyes and see me decently laid under ground. No! No! I've naught to complain of. Little I thought once to end my days in an almshouse, and now I am thankful for the almshouse itself."