There
were no soldiers in Mrs. Lightfoot's house now, and the doctor lived
more at large, but still cautiously, for in the opposite house, named
the "Ark," whose gable end nearly met the Wheatsheaf's, dwelt a rival
baker, a Brownist, whose great object seemed to be to spy upon the
clergyman, and have something to report against him, nor was Mrs.
Lightfoot's own man to be trusted. Stead lingered about the open
stall where the bread was sold till no customer was at hand, and then
mentioned under his breath to the good dame his desire to speak with
her lodger.
"Certainly," she said, but the Doctor was now with his pupils at
Mistress Rivett's. He always left them at eleven of the clock, more
shame of Mrs. Rivett not to give the good man his dinner, which she
would never feel. Steadfast had better watch for him at the gate
which opened on the down, for there he could speak more privately and
securely than at home.
He took the advice, and passed away the time as best he could,
learning on the way that a news letter had been received stating that
the King was with the Scottish army at Newcastle, and that it was
expected that on receiving their arrears of pay, the Scots would
surrender him to the Parliament, a proceeding which the folk in the
market-place approved or disapproved according to their politics.
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