"
"Where is it?" was all Stead uttered.
"What think you of Master Henshaw's, the great merchant, and an
honest well-wisher to King and Church to boot?"
"Master Henshaw, the West Indian merchant? His is a good, well-
ordered household, and he holds with the old ways."
"Yes. He was out that Whitsun morning we wot of," said Emlyn. "I
wist well you would be pleased."
"But I thought his good lady was dead," said Steadfast.
"So she is. She that came out to the gully, but there's a new
Mistress Henshaw, a sweet young lady, of a loyal house, the Ayliffes
of Calfield. And I am to be her own woman."
"Own woman," said Mrs. Lightfoot, for they were by this time among
the loaves in her stall. "Merchants' wives did not use to have women
of their own in my time."
For this was the title of a lady's maid, and rules as to household
appointments were strictly observed before the rebellion.
"Mistress Henshaw is gentlewoman born," returned Emlyn, with a toss
of her head. "She ought to have all that is becoming her station in
return for being wedded to an old hunks like that! And 'tis very
well she should have one like _me_ who has seen what becomes good
blood! So commend me to Patience and Rusha, and tell Ben maybe I
shall have an orange to send him one of these days.
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