Part 50 (2/2)

”Married, and have one more trouble than you,” answered Stephen laughingly, as he took the clasp from his youthful and inquisitive niece; ”but my children are not troublesome, I am thankful to say. I was going to tell you that marsh-mallows makes one of the finest poultices you can have. Pluck it when Jupiter is in the ascendant, and the moon on the wane, and you'll find it first-rate for easing that foot of yours.--Gilbert, I heard thy mother tell thee not to go up the ladder.”

”Well, what if she did?” demanded Gilbert sulkily. ”She's only a woman.”

”Then she must be obeyed,” said Stephen.

”But who did you marry, for I never--Oh deary me, but it does sting!”

”Now, Anania, I'll just go to the market and get you some marsh mallow; Selis will come with me to carry it. I've to see Aunt Isel yet, and plenty more. Come, Selis.”

”_Ha, chetife_!--you've no sooner come than you're off again! Who did you marry? That's what I want to know.”

”The sooner you get that poultice on the better. I may look in again, if I have time. If not, you'll tell Osbert I've been, and all's well with me.”

Stephen shut the door along with his last word, disregarding Anania's parting cry of--”But you haven't told me who your wife is!” and marched Selis off to the market, where he laded him with marsh mallow, and sent him home with strict injunctions not to drop it by the way. Then, laughing to himself at the style wherein he had disposed of Anania, he turned off to Turlgate Street (now the Turl) where Raven Soclin lived.

The first person whom he saw there was his cousin Flemild.

”Why, Stephen, this is an unexpected pleasure!” she said warmly.

”Mother, here's Cousin Stephen come.”

”I'm glad to see thee, lad,” responded Isel: and the usual questions followed as to his home and calling. But to Stephen's great satisfaction, though Isel expressed her hope that he had a good wife, n.o.body asked for her name. The reason was that they all took it for granted she must be a stranger to them; and when they had once satisfied themselves that he was doing well, and had learnt such details as his present calling, the number of his family, and so forth, they seemed more eager to impart information than to obtain it. At their request, Stephen promised to sleep there, and then went out to pay a visit to Romund and Mabel, which proved to be of a very formal and uninteresting nature. He had returned to Turlgate Street, but they had not yet gone to rest, when Osbert lifted the latch.

”So you're real, are you?” said he, laughing to his brother. ”Anania couldn't tell me if you were or not; she said she rather thought she'd been dreaming,--more by reason that you did not tarry a minute, and she could not get an answer to one question, though she asked you three times.”

Stephen too well knew what that question was to ask for a repet.i.tion of it ”Nay, I tarried several minutes,” said he; ”but I went off to get some marsh mallow for a poultice for the poor soul; she seemed in much pain. I hope Selis took it home all right? Has she got it on?”

”I think she has,” said Osbert. ”But she wants you very badly to go back and tell her a lot more news.”

”Well, I'll see,” replied Stephen; ”I scarcely think I can. But if she wants news, you tell her I've heard say women's head-kerchiefs are to be worn smaller, and tied under the chin; that's a bit of news that'll take her fancy.”

”That'll do for a while,” answered Osbert; ”but what she wants to know most is your wife's name and all the children's.”

”Oh, is that it?” said Stephen coolly. ”Then you may tell her one of the children is named after you, and another for our mother; and we have an Agnes and a Derette: and if she wants to know the cat's name too--”

Osbert roared. ”Oh, let's have the cat's name, by all means,” said he; and Stephen gravely informed him that it was Gib.

As Agnes was at that time one of the commonest names in England, about as universal as Mary or Elizabeth now, Stephen felt himself pretty safe in giving it; but the name of his eldest son he did not mention.

”Well, I'd better go home before I forget them,” said Osbert. ”Let's see--Osbert, Edild, Agnes, and Derette--and the cat is Gib. I think I shall remember. But I haven't had your wife's.”

”I'll walk back with you,” said Stephen, evading the query; and they went out together.

”Stephen, lad,” said Osbert, when they had left the house, ”I've a notion thou dost not want to tell thy wife's name. Is it true, or it's only my fancy?”

”Have you?” responded Stephen shortly.

”Ay, I have; and if it be thus, say so, but don't tell me what it is.

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