"Leave the lad and the maids go, then," said he, "and you and Jack bide a space." So the maids and Robin departed. "What is it, Doctor?" asked Avery, when they were gone. "What it is, Jack," said Dr Thorpe, who sat in the corner with his hands upon his knees, "is a great burning mountain that is at this moment quiet. What it may be, is a great rushing and overflowing of the fiery matter, that shall deal death all around. And what it will be--the Lord God knoweth, and He only." "You speak in parables, Doctor," replied Avery. "The safest matter to speak at this time," answered he. "You look for a new riot, an' I take you rightly." "Hardly for a riot," the other answered. "Is the door fast?" "I bolted it after you," said Avery. Doctor Thorpe drew his chair closer, and spoke in a low, earnest voice. "Not a riot," he said. "Say an uprising--a civil war--a mighty rebellion of all that be under, against all that be above. Men that will know no ruler, and bear no curb--little afraid to speak evil of dignities, or to do evil against them. `We are, and there is none beside us:' yea, `we are the people, and wisdom shall die with us.'" "There be such spirits alway," answered Avery, "but, I thank God, rarely so many come together as shall do a mischief." "There shall be mischief enough done in Cornwall and Devon within the next month or twain," said Dr Thorpe, gloomily. "I see more than you; and I am come to tell you of somewhat that nearly toucheth both you and me. A year gone or thereabout, I was a-riding from Bodmin on the Truro way, when I was aware of a little ragged lad that sat by the roadside, the tears a-rolling down his not over clean face. I drew bridle, and asked the lad what ailed him. He told me his mother did lie at death's door, not far thence. `Hath she any doctor or apothecary?' quoth I. `Nay,' saith he, `neither the priest nor the apothecary would come without money, and father hath not a penny.' Well, I 'light from mine horse, and throwing his bridle athwart mine arm, I bade the lad lead me to his mother, for I was a physician, and could maybe do her some good. I found her under an hedge, with nought save a ragged rug to cover her, twain other children beside clamouring for bread, and her husband, a rugged sullen-faced man, weaving of rushes for baskets. All they were dark-faced folk, and were, I take it, of that Egyptian [gipsy] crew that doth over-run all countries at times. I saw in a moment that though beyond their skill, her disorder was not (with God's blessing) beyond mine; yet it did require speedy remedy to serve her. The physic that I fetched for her quickly gave her ease, and I was something astonied at the blessings which the husband did heap upon me when I departed from them. Methought, though he were rugged of face, yet he must be a man that had some power of affection. Well, the woman amended, and all they left that part. I heard no more of them sithence, until late last