Upon Lady Sybil's flight, Will Lowry had seized her house. He said that he had a right to it, because his wife was nearest of kin to Lady Sybil, and Lady Sybil had proved herself an enemy to the Parliament, by fleeing to the king's friends, and so had justly forfeited her house and lands. Doubtless Mr. Lowry would have found it hard to make good his claim to Larkland in the courts of law, but at such a time, when the country was plunging into civil war, the courts had little to say. So Lowry's men and maids served in the house of Larkland. Lowry's steward gathered the harvests and collected the rents. And Lowry's wife, who was sickly and wished the air of the Sussex Weald, left her own house by the sea and came to rule in Lady Sybil's place. Of the old household only Mawkin and Merrylips were left. Mawkin was there because Merrylips needed her, and Merrylips was there because, at first, she was too sick to be moved, and because afterward--but afterward was some time in coming. Meanwhile Merrylips grew slowly better and stronger. And every day, and more than once each day, Mistress Lowry, the tall, pale woman with the dry hands, was at her bedside. She brought possets and jellies to the little girl. She read to her from a brown book with clasps. She talked to her of what might have happened to her, if she had died in the fever, after the careless life that she had led. So gravely did she speak that Merrylips dared not go to sleep at night until she had a candle burning on the table beside her. Once or twice, too, Will Lowry himself, with the close mouth and the square jaw, came into Merrylips' chamber, and patted her cheek and bade her get well. "Ay, sir," promised Merrylips. "I shall soon be well, and then I shall go unto Walsover, shall I not?" But to that Will Lowry answered that she must first get strong. It would be time enough then to talk of the long journey to Walsover. So Merrylips got well as fast as she could. She did not doubt that Mistress Lowry meant to be kind, but she much preferred to be with her father and her brothers and her dear godmother at Walsover. Again and again she begged for news of her family. All that Mawkin could tell her was that letters had come from Walsover. Mawkin did not know a word that was in them. Then Merrylips questioned Mistress Lowry, but she would tell her only that her kinsfolk all were well in body, though they were given over, heart and soul, to the service of a wicked king and a false religion. When Merrylips heard her dear ones spoken of in this harsh fashion, she could not help crying, for she still was very weak. This crying and fretting and wondering as to when she should go home, did not help her to get well quickly. Indeed it was autumn, and her birthday once again,--her ninth birthday,--before she was able to fling crumbs to the carp in the fish-pond and walk in the little village, as she had used to do with Lady Sybil.