pleasuring,–wine and a bonny lass, or a race-horse or two. But mechanics’ meetings, and pandering to ranting Radicals–I call it scandalous!”

“Edgar has a good heart.”

“A good heart! A cat and a fiddle! And that friend of his thou wantest me to run after, he is nothing but a bouncing, swaggering puppy! 19 Body of me, Maude! I will not have this subject named again. If thou thinkest I will ever humble to Edgar Atheling, thou art off thy horse; for I will not–never!”

19

“Well, John, as none of thy family were ever out of their senses before, I do hope thou wilt come round; I do indeed!”

“Make thyself easy on that score. Lord! What did the Almighty make women of? It confounds me.”

“To be sure it does. Didst thou expect the Almighty to tell thee? He has so ordered things that men get wed, and then try and find the secret out. Thou hadst better go to bed, John Atheling. I see plainly there is neither sense nor reason in thee to-night. I fancy thou art a bit set up with the thought of being sent to Parliament by Duke Richmoor. I wouldn’t if I was thee, for thou wilt have to do just what he tells thee to do.”

“What an aggravating woman thou art!” and with the words he passed through the door, clashing it after him in a way that made Mistress Atheling smile and nod her handsome head understandingly. She stood waiting until she heard a door clash sympathetically up-stairs, and then she said softly,–

“He did not manage to ‘throw’ or ‘threep’ me; if he was cock of the walk down on the green–what fools men are!–I see clear through him–stubborn though–takes after 20 his mother–and there never was a woman more stubborn than Dame Joan Atheling.”

20

During this soliloquy she was locking up the cupboards in the parlour and houseplace. Then she opened the kitchen door and sharply gave the two women watching the malt mash her last orders; after which she took off her slippers at the foot of the stairs, and went very quietly up them. She had no light, but without any hesitation she turned towards a certain corridor, and gently pushed open a door. It let her into a large, low room; and the moonlight showed in the centre of it a high canopied bedstead, piled with snowy pillows and drapery, and among them, lying with closed eyes, her daughter Kate.

“Kate! Kitty darling! Are you awake?” she 

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