The great difficulty seemed to be how to dispose of Katherine. I did not like to leave her with Mary Thornton, whose temper did not mend with age, and who was always a little disposed to be jealous of the child. Any of the farmers' dames about would have been glad of her; but there were objections to that plan also. Just in the nick of time, however, my lady came forward and claimed Katherine for her own while we should be away. Kate would be invaluable to her, she was pleased to say, as a companion to herself and a teacher to the elder little girl. I knew my lady well enough to know that while she would be kind to the child, she would not spoil her, and so it was agreed that Katherine should stay at Stanton Court during our absence. Little did we think how long that absence was like to be, or how many things were to happen before we saw the dear maiden again. At last, the day of departure came, and we set out, taking Stanton Court in our way, and leaving Katherine in her new home. My lady had given me a good horse for my own riding, an arrangement far more pleasant to me than being trussed up on a pillion. The two servants Sir John Peckham sent were staid, sober, middle-aged serving men, real old fashioned blue-coats, such as they tell me are going out of vogue now-a-days, when gentlemen must have their grooms, their footmen, pages and what not. The time was just past the middle of June. The weather was lovely and the roads as good as they ever are in England. We did not hurry, but traveled in the cool mornings and afternoons, stopping in the heat of the day at some country inn, or in some little town, two or three times with old friends of my husband's settled in quiet country rectories. It was at one of these last named places that we heard a rumor of the young king's rapidly declining health. "Heaven help us!" said my husband. "What will become of this land if he dies?" "There may be better days in store for England than she hath ever yet seen!" answered our host, who was a dignified clergyman. "My brother, from whom I have most of my news, tells me that there is a prospect of the Lady Jane Grey succeeding to the throne. She is, as every one says, a young lady of excellent parts and sweet disposition, and loyal to the reformed faith to the bottom of her heart." My husband shook his head. "That may all be, but I do not believe she will ever wear the crown. King Edward's will, whatever it may be—and I fancy no one knows that—will never set aside his father's. Poor Lady Jane and her husband are but puppets in the hands of their ambitious relations." "Ay, and unwilling puppets, some say," answered our host. "Mine excellent friend, Master Roger Ascham, tells me that her liking is all for retirement and study, and that she would rather read a dialogue of Plato or a chapter in the Hebrew Scriptures than join in any gay pastime whatever." "Alas, poor young lady!" said I. "And of what like is her husband?"