“I like that feeling,” answered Cherry, with kindling eyes.  “If that be so, I mind it less.  Father is a good man, and full of courage; but I grow full weary of these never-ending talks.  Kezzie, thinkest thou that he will be put in prison for keeping from church with his whole house?  Some men have been sent to prison for less.”

“I know not how that may be,” answered Keziah, gravely.  “He is a useful citizen, and a man of substance; and by what I hear, such as these are left alone so long as they abide quiet and peaceable.  Just now the Papists are being worse treated than we.  Methinks that is why father is so sorry for them.”

“Too much talk! too much talk!” cried Aunt Susan’s voice from the adjoining kitchen.  “Hands lag when tongues wag; wherefore do your work in silence.  Is that almond paste ready, Keren Happuch?  Then bring it quickly hither; and your manchet and sugar, Keziah, for the skins are ready to be stuffed.”

And as the girls obediently brought the required ingredients, they found themselves in a long, low room, at the end of which a huge fire burned in a somewhat primitive stove, whilst a tall, angular, and powerful-looking dame, with her long upper robe well tucked up, and her gray hair pushed tightly away beneath a severe-looking coif, was superintending a number of culinary tasks, Jemima and a serving wench obeying the glance of her eye and the turn of her hand with the precision of long practice.

Certainly it was plain that Martin Holt’s guests would not starve that night.  The herring pie was only the crowning delicacy of the board, which was to groan beneath a variety of appetizing dishes.  The Puritans were a temperate race, and the baneful habit of sack drinking at all hours, of perpetual pledgings and toastings, and the large consumption of fiery liquors, was at a discount in their houses; but they nevertheless liked a good table as well as the rest of their kind, and saw no hurt in sitting down to a generously supplied board, whilst they made up for their abstemiousness in the matter of liquor by the healthy and voracious appetite which speedily caused the good cheer to melt away.

Mistress Susan was so intent on her preparations that she scarcely let her nieces pause to eat their frugal midday dinner.  Martin himself was out on business, and would dine abroad that day, and nothing better pleased the careful housewife than to dispense with any formal dinner when there was a company supper to be cooked, and thus save the attendant labour of washing up as well as the time wasted in the consumption of the meal.

Jemima and Keziah never dreamed of disputing their aunt’s will; but Cherry pouted and complained that it was hard to work all day without even the dinner hour as a relief.  Mistress Susan gave her a sharp rebuke that silenced without subduing her; and she kept throwing wistful glances out of the window, watching the play of sunshine on the water, and longing to be out in the fresh air—­for such a day as this was too good to be wasted indoors.  Tomorrow belike the sun would not shine, and the wind would be cold and nipping.