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"Any news to-night, Hildith?" asked Avice, as she handed her neighbour the tinder-box. "Well, nay; without you call it news that sheriffs man brought word this morrow that the Lord King had granted the half of her goods to old Barnaba o' the Lichgate." "She that was a Jew, and was baptised at Whitsuntide? I am glad to hear that." "Ay, she.
I am but now come home from work, and am that weary I may scarce move; and yon careless Jaket hath let the fire out, and I must needs kindle the same again ere I may dress supper for the children." It was no wonder if Hildith looked worn out, or if she could not afford a tinder-box. That precious article cost a penny, and her wages were fifteen pence a year.
"Step in, Hildith," said Bertha, as she opened it. "Christ give thee a good even!" "The like to thee," was the answer, as a rather worn-looking woman came in. "Mistress Avice, your servant. Pray you, would you lend me the loan of a tinder-box?
"Nay, Hildith, London town is built of brick and stone like Lincoln." "Is it, now? I always heard it was made o' gold. But aren't there a vast sight o' folk there? nigh upon ten thousand?" "Ay, and more." "However do they get victuals for them all?" "I got mine when I lived there," said Avice, laughing. "And don't they burn sea-coal?" "They did once; it is forbidden now." "Dirty, poisonous stuff!
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