“The packet that he (another nod towards Antony) wanted Cis to give that witch in case she came while he is at Chatsworth.”

“It was the dog-whistle,” said Cis.  “It hath no sound in it, and Antony would have me change it for him, because Huckster Tibbott may not come within the gates.  I did not want to do so; I fear Tibbott, and when Humfrey found me crying he fell on Antony.  So blame him not, mother.”

“If Humfrey is a jealous churl, and Cis a little fool, there’s no help for it,” said Antony, disdainfully turning his back on his late adversary.

“Then let me take charge of this whistle,” returned the lady, moved by the universal habit of caution, but Antony sprang hastily to intercept her as she was taking from the little girl a small paper packet tied round with coloured yarn, but he was not in time, and could only exclaim, “Nay, nay, madam, I will not trouble you.  It is nothing.”

“Master Babington,” said Susan firmly, “you know as well as I do that no packet may pass out of the park unopened.  If you wished to have the whistle changed you should have brought it uncovered.  I am sorry for the discourtesy, and ask your pardon, but this parcel may not pass.”

“Then,” said Antony, with difficulty repressing something much more passionate and disrespectful, “let me have it again.”

“Nay, Master Babington, that would not suit with my duty.”

The boy altogether lost his temper.  “Duty! duty!” he cried.  “I am sick of the word.  All it means is a mere feigned excuse for prying and spying, and besetting the most beautiful and unhappy princess in the world for her true faith and true right!”

“Master Antony Babington,” said Susan gravely, “you had better take care what you are about.  If those words of yours had been spoken in my Lord’s hearing, they would bring you worse than the rod or bread and water.”

“What care I what I suffer for such a Queen?” exclaimed Antony.

“Suffering is a different matter from saying ‘What care I,’” returned the lady, “as I fear you will learn, Master Antony.”

“O mother! sweet mother,” said Cis, “you will not tell of him!”—­but mother shook her head.

“Prithee, dear mother,” added Humfrey, seeing no relenting in her countenance, “I did but mean to hinder Cis from being maltreated and a go-between in this traffic with an old witch, not to bring Tony into trouble.”

“His face is a tell-tale, Humfrey,” said Susan.  “I meant ere now to have put a piece of beef on it.  Come in, Antony, and let me wash it.”

“Thank you, madam, I need nothing here,” said Antony, stalking proudly off; while Humfrey, exclaiming “Don’t be an ass, Tony!—­ Mother, no one would care to ask what we had given one another black eyes for in a friendly way,” tried to hold him back, and he did linger when Cis added her persuasions to him not to return the spectacle he was at present.