“But what for? Who’s to help her
there, Master Wheatman?”
“Ask me another, Captain,” said I.
“But a wise woman would know where to find friends,
and Stafford’s full of papishes, burn ’em!”
“Ah!”
“There’s Bulbrook and Pippin Pat and Ducky
Bellows; there’s old sack-face, the parson there,
as good as a papist, very near. You keep your
eyes on those big houses in the East Gate. As
for me, look at that back and breast and good broad-sword
there. Damn me if I don’t rub ’em
up and come and have a ding with ’em at these
rebels. On Naseby Field they were, Captain, long
before your time and mine, but they did good work against
these same bloody Stuarts. Crack t’other
bottle, there’s a good fellow. I’m
dry with talking and wet with fishing, and it’ll
do me good.”
I pressed him to stay and ‘have a good set to,’
but he refused, and after drinking enough to keep
me dizzy for a week, he nipped out and ordered his
men to horse. I walked to the gate with him.
He thanked me for my help and good cheer, and said
it was quite clear that the spy was nowhere in or
near the Hanyards. I renewed my greetings to Cornet
Dobson and even sent my respects to his lordship.
Off they rode, and it was with a thankful heart that,
remembering my happy condition in time, I stumbled
back up the yard to the house-place, where madam and
beaming Jane were awaiting me.
MISTRESS MARGARET WAYNFLETE
Jane had taken the lady back to the house-place and
was hovering around her, with little of the grace
of a maid-of-honour to be sure, but with a heartiness
and zeal that more than atoned for any lack of style.
From mother’s withdrawing-room I fetched our
chief household god, a small ancient silver goblet,
and, filling it with wine, offered it to the stranger
with what I supposed, no doubt wrongly, to be a modish
bow. She drank a little, and then, at my urging,
a little more.
“Madam,” I said, “I think you do
not need to be ‘Molly Brown’ any longer.
Yon dragooner is quite certain that you are not here,
and we can safely take advantage of his opinion.
As for you, Jane, you’ve done splendidly, and
I heartily thank you.” I re-filled the goblet
and handed it to Jane, saying, “Drink, Jane,
to madam’s good luck.”
The honest girl blushed with joy at my words, and
as for drinking wine out of the famous silver goblet
of the Hanyards—such a distinction, as she
conceived it, was reward enough for anything.
“Thanks are payment all too poor for what you
have done, sir,” said madam, “and any
words of mine would make them poorer still. But,
sir, I do thank you most heartily. And you, too,
Jane, have done me splendid service. You are
as brave and clever as you are bonny and pretty.”
“Madam,” said I, bowing low, “you
are too kind to my services, which have, indeed, been
rather crudely performed.”
