"In her bed, I hope," answered Mr Underhill, "unless she be somewhat more than other women. Marry, but she must be aweary to-night! 'Twas a splendrous matter, and worth seeing; but as cold as charity. And when 'tis January other where, 'tis not August in Westminster Abbey. We heretics fared uncommon well; George Ferris and I got a red deer pie betwixt us, and we made it look ashamed of himself ere we had done, I warrant you." "Ned Underhill!" said John, "'tis a standing marvel to me that Austin Bernher and thou should have come out of Queen Mary's persecution alive." "'Tis a greater marvel to me that thou shouldst," replied Mr Underhill, a second time attacking the buttered eggs. "Mrs Avery, I hope you have more eggs in the house?--With all thy prudence, and cautiousness, and wariness, sweet Jack, thou earnest not off a whit better than thy rash and foolish neighbour." "Nay," answered John, "I came off thus much better, that I never yet saw the inside of Newgate." "Tush! that was for a ballad I writ," said he. "But thou canst not say I fared the worse, saving that." "I cannot," answered John, "and thereat I marvel no little." "O wise and sagacious Jack! didst ever pluck a nettle?" "I have done such a thing," replied he. "Then thou wist that the gentler 'tis handled, the more it stingeth. Now for my moral: take Queen Mary as the nettle, and thou seest my way of dealing." "Your pardon, friend Underhill!" said Mr Rose, "but I can in no wise allow that either of you were saved by your way of dealing. Let Him have all the glory unto whom it belongeth." "Amen!" responded Mr Underhill. "Jack, may we sing the _Te Deum_ in thine house to-night, an't like thy squeamishness?" "With a very good will, Ned," answered John. When supper was over, Mr Underhill (who, for all his weariness, seemed in no haste to be at home) drew up his chair to the fire, in the midst of the group, and said-- "Now, Tremayne,--your first sermon!" Thus bidden, Robin began his story.