" And away tramped the steward in great displeasure,
while Patience put her apron over her head and cried bitterly.
She supposed Stead might be right, but what would it not have been to
have the old house built up, and all decent about them as it was in
mother's time, and fit places to sleep in, now that the wenches were
growing bigger?
"But you know, Patty, we are saving for that."
"Aye, and how long will it take? And now this pestilent woodward
will be always finding fault--killing the fowls and ducks, and
seizing the swine and sheep, and very like slaughtering the dogs and
getting us turned out of house and home; for now you have offended
the squire, he will believe anything against us."
"Come, Patty, you know I could not help it. This is sorest of all,
you that have always stood by me and father's wish."
"Yes, yes," sobbed Patience. "I wot you are right, Stead. I'll hold
to you, though I wish--I wish you would think like other folk."
Yet Patience knew in her secret soul that then he would not be her
own Steadfast, and she persuaded him no more, though the discomforts
and deficiencies of their present home tried her more and more as the
family grew older.
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