Home agayn, and _Mother_ hath gone on her long intended Visitt to Uncle _John_, taking with her the two youngest. _Father_ much preoccupide, by reason of the Supplies needed for his Majesty's Service; soe that, sweet _Robin_ being away, I find myselfe lonely. _Harry_ rides with me in the Evening, but the Mornings I have alle to myself; and when I have fulfilled _Mother's_ Behests in the Kitchen and Still-room, I have nought but to read in our somewhat scant Collection of Books, the moste Part whereof are religious. And (not on that Account, but by reason I have read the most of them before), methinks I will write to borrow some of _Rose_; for Change of Reading hath now become a Want. I am minded also, to seek out and minister unto some poore Folk after her Fashion. Now that I am Queen of the Larder, there is manie a wholesome Scrap at my Disposal, and there are likewise sundrie Physiques in my Mother's Closet, which she addeth to Year by Year, and never wants, we are soe seldom ill. _Aug. 5, 1644_. Dear _Father_ sayd this Evening, as we came in from a Walk on the Terrace, "My sweet _Moll_, you were ever the Light of the House; but now, though you are more staid than of former Time, I find you a better Companion than ever. This last Visitt to _Sheepscote_ hath evened your Spiritts." Poor _Father_! he knew not how I lay awake and wept last Night, for one I shall never see agayn, nor how the Terrace Walk minded me of him. My Spiritts may seem even, and I exert myself to please; but, within, all is dark Shade, or at best, grey Twilight; and my Spiritts are, in Fact, worse here than they were at _Sheepscote_, because, here, I am continuallie thinking of one whose Name is never uttered; whereas, there, it was mentioned naturallie and tenderlie, though sadly. . . . I will forthe to see some of the poor Folk. _Same Night_.