"Not in my time, I fear," replied the shepherd. "But is not this a strange move of my lord cardinal's? There is much discontent already with the religious houses, and the monks complain everywhere of the disrespect with which they are treated. To my mind, this measure is a little like showing the cat the way to the cream." "Maybe so! Maybe so! I fear me the cat will find her way to that cream-pot without showing, some of these days," said the baker. "But anyhow, the gray nuns must troop, bag and baggage, and there is talk of my Lord Harland buying the house and lands. They say he brought home much treasure from the Low Countries, and some pretend to affirm that he is a favorer of the new doctrine. Anne, poor maid, went off into a fit of weeping when she heard the story. I suppose it is but natural she should be grieved at seeing the place go into secular hands." Jack thought he understood better the cause of his sister's grief. He remembered the sad tale of Agnes Harland, and could not help wondering whether she were still alive and whether the suppression of the convent might prove her release. "But even if she be living, they will doubtless make sure work with her before that day comes," he thought. "She will have secured her martyr's crown before this time." Meantime Dame Margery's exertions had spread the board with a hearty and substantial meal, to which the travellers did full justice. Master Lucas praised everything, declared that such milk and butter were well worth the ride, and shouted compliments to Margery till the old woman fairly blushed. He was one of those happy people who are always disposed to see the bright side of everything, and who come like a broad beam of sunshine into every house they enter. "Well, we must even be jogging homewards," he said, at last. "My mule is not swift at best, as how could she be, poor creature, with such a load on her back? We must not be late, or the women will imagine all sorts of dangers and horrors." "And indeed, I would not have you out after dark," said Thomas Sprat. "The waste here harbors many vagrants—gypsies and the like, who bear none too good characters." "I will go with you a part of the way, father," said Jack. "I suppose Simon can foot it a mile or so, and I will ride his beast and walk back." "That can I, indeed, and will do so with a right good will," said Simon the journeyman, who, truth to say, was something the worse for his unusual equestrian exercise, if so it could be called, and who looked forward with no great pleasure to mounting his mule again. "I would gladly walk half the way back to Bridgewater." In a short time the mules were saddled, the last good-bys said, and Jack and his father were riding soberly side by side on the road to Bridgewater, while Simon trudged after them on foot, keeping at such a distance as not to overhear their conversation, yet as near as was consistent with "manners." Their talk was of home matters and of the news of the town.