Had you been worth but a pinch of salt, you would have shown me how to lay hands on Nan the witch-wife, the cause of all the scathe to my poor bairn.” Master Lambert could only protest that he laid no claim to the skill of a witch-finder, whereupon the lady stormed at him as having come on false pretences, and at her daughter for having brought him, and finally fell into a paroxysm of violent weeping, during which Grisell was thankful to convey her guest out of the chamber, and place him under the care of Ridley, who would take care he had food and rest, and safe convoy back to Wearmouth when his mule had been rested and baited. “Oh, Master Lambert,” she said, “it grieves me that you should have been thus treated.” “Heed not that, sweet lady. It oft falls to our share to brook the like, and I fear me that yours is a weary lot.” “But my brother! my little brother!” she asked. “It is all out of my mother’s love for him.” “Alack, lady, what can I say? The child is sickly, and little enough is there of peace or joy in this world for such, be he high or low born. Were it not better that the Saints should take him to their keeping, while yet a sackless babe?” Grisell wrung her hands together. “Ah! he hath been all my joy or bliss through these years; but I will strive to say it is well, and yield my will.