Jemima and Keziah saw the wistful glances, and longed to interpose on behalf of their favourite; but Mistress Susan was not one it was well to interfere with, and Cherry was not in favour that day.  But an inspiration came over Jemima at last, and she suddenly exclaimed: 

“Sure, but how badly we need some fresh rushes for the parlour floor!  There be not enough to cover it, and they all brown and old.  There has been scarce any frost as yet.  I trow the river rushes will be yet green, and at least they will be fresh.  Could not the child be spared to run out to try and get some?  She is a better hand at that than at her cooking.  I will finish her pastry if thou wilt spare her to get the reeds.  I love not a floor like you, and methinks father will chide an he sees.”

Mistress Susan cast a quick glance at the rush-strewn floor, and could not but agree with her niece.  She had all the true housewife’s instinct of neatness and cleanliness in every detail.  The filthy habit of letting rushes rot on the floor, and only piling fresh ones on the top as occasion demanded, found no favour in this house.  It was part of Cherry’s work and delight to cut them fresh as often as there was need, but a spell of wet weather had hindered her from her river-side rambles of late, with the consequence that the supply was unwontedly low.

“Oh, any one can do Keren Happuch’s work and feel nothing added to her toil,” was the sharp response.  “Small use are her hands in any kitchen.  We had better make up our minds to wed her to a fine gentleman, who wants naught of his wife but to dress up in grand gowns, and smirk and simper over her fan; for no useful work will he get out of her.  If rushes are wanted, she had better go quickly and cut them—­

“And mind, do not stray too far along the banks, child; and watch the sky, and be in before the sun is down.  The evenings draw in so quick now; and I would not have you abroad after nightfall for all the gold of Ophir.”

Cherry had no desire for such a thing to happen either.  London in the darkness of the night was a terrible place.  Out from all the dens of Whitefriars and other like places swarmed the ruffian and criminal population that by day slunk away like evil beasts of night into hiding.  The streets were made absolutely perilous by the bands of cutthroats and cutpurses who prowled about, setting upon belated pedestrians or unwary travellers, and robbing, insulting, and maltreating them—­not unfrequently leaving the wretched victim dead or dying, to be found later by the cowardly watchman, who generally took good care not to be near the spot at the time of the affray.  Ladies of quality never went abroad unattended even by day; but Cherry was no fine lady, and Martin Holt had no notion of encouraging the child’s native vanity by making any difference betwixt her and her sisters.  Jemima and Keziah had been always accustomed to go about in the neighbourhood of their home unmolested,