The Miracle at St. Bruno's

AN IMPERIOUS letter came from Kate, brought by one of Lord Remus's servants. We were at supper in the big hall where we took our meals at the long table at which places were always laid for any travelers who might call. There was usually someone-footsore and weary; they all knew of the benevolence of Lawyer Farland who had the reputation for never turning any away. Conversation at our table was usually interesting because as my father said it was stimulating to hear new views. In the kitchen there were always salted joints of pig hanging from the beams and Clement invariably had an assortment of pies to hand. Next to her garden my mother loved her stillroom and her kitchen. In fact one served the other. She dried her herbs and mixed them, experimenting with them, and was almost as excited by the result as she was by growing a new rose.

This was supper and it was six of the clock, and early summer, so the doors were wide open. As we sat at table one of the servants came in to say that there was a man at the gate who wished to see Father.

He rose at once and went out. He came back with a man whose clothes proclaimed him to be a priest. My father looked pleased; he always enjoyed giving hospitality but naturally to do so to some gave him more pleasure than to others.

The man was Amos Carmen and it appeared that he and my father had once known each other and the reunion gave them much pleasure. He did not take his place at the table where callers usually sat but a place was laid next to my father and the two of them talked together. They had at one time been together in St. Bruno's and thought of taking up the monastic life. Amos become a priest while my father's intention was to found a family. When Amos began to talk about the changes in the Church I could see that my father was growing a little uneasy. Although those at the table might be trusted there were the servants to consider and it was so easy in these days to betray oneself. To imply by word or deed that one did not consider the King to be the Supreme Head of the Church could mean death. When my father changed the topic of conversation I think the newcomer realized what was happening for he immediately fell in with the new subject and we were discussing the uses of herbs on which he had complimented my mother because of the manner they had been used in the pies which were being served to us.

It was a change to see my mother animated. It was usually when we had horticulturists to dine with us that she sparkled.

"It's amazing," she was saying, "how little use is made of the flowers and herbs which grow in our meadows and hedgerows. They are there for anyone's taking and they can be so tasty. Primroses and marigolds make excellent garnish in pies and tarts.”

"I can see, Madam," replied Amos with a smile, "that you are a past mistress at the art of cookery.”

Mother dimpled rather prettily. She was far more susceptible to flattery about her flowers and her household than her looks; and she was still good looking.

Father said: "She is the best housewife in England. I'd defy any to deny it. Why, when Damask here is snuffling with a cold it seems nothing will cure her mother gives her juice of buttercup. Following the dose there is such an attack of sneezing that the head is cleared at once. And I remember how when I had blisters on my feet she cured that with... crowfoot, was it?”

"It was indeed," said Mother. "Oh, yes, there is a great deal to be learned from the roots and flowers and herbs.”

And so we discussed the herbs which could ease pain or delight the palate and it was while we talked thus that the letters arrived from Kate.

How grand her servants were in their bright livery! Ours seemed humble in comparison.

One of the letters was addressed to Father and Mother, the other to me.

We did not consider it polite to read them at table, which was a trial to me as I was burning with impatience to have Kate's news. The messenger was taken to the kitchens to be refreshed, although, said Father jocularly, one wondered whether such a fine-looking gentleman should be invited to sit at the head of the table.

The conversation continued concerning new plants and vegetables which my mother believed would shortly be introduced into the country. My mother was saying that like Queen Katharine she often longed for a salad, but unlike the Queen had been wont to do, she was in no position to send to Flanders or Holland that the proper ingredients might be acquired.

"And I believe," said Amos Carmen, "that there is talk of bringing in Flemish hops and planting them here.”

"It is so," cried my mother. "I should verily like to see more and more such things coming into the country. There are so many edible roots like the carrot and the turnip.

It is ridiculous that we cannot grow them here. But we shall. Do you remember the visitor we had from Flanders?" She turned to her husband.

He remembered well, he told her.