leasant force if he himself were at all slow to obey.

He tried to catch Charity's eye, but was made aware once more of the
eternal truth that women are perverse and fickle creatures, for she
would not look at him, and seemed absorbed in the rearrangement of her
kerchief.

With a deep sigh which should have spoken volumes to her adamantine
heart, Courage gathered all the mugs together by their handles, and
reluctantly marched out of the room once more.

Hymn-of-Praise Busy waited a moment or two until the clattering of the
pewter died away in the distance, then he edged a little closer to the
table whereat Mistress Charity seemed still very busy with the fruit,
and said haltingly:

"Didst thou really wish to go, mistress ... to leave thy fond, adoring
Hymn-of-Praise ... to go, mistress? ... and to break my heart?"

Charity's dainty head--with its tiny velvet cap edged with lawn which
hardly concealed sufficiently the wealth of her unruly brown hair--sank
meditatively upon her left shoulder.

"Lord, Master Busy," she said demurely, "how was a poor maid to know
that you meant it earnestly?"

"Meant it earnestly?"

"Yes ... a new kirtle ... a gold ring ... flowers ... and sack-posset
and pasties to all the guests," she explained. "Is that what you mean
... hem ... what _thou_, meanest, Master Busy?"

"Of a surety, mistress ... and if thou wouldst allow me to ... to ..."

"To what, Master Busy?"

"To salute thee," said the saintly man, with a becoming blush, "as the
Lord doth allow his creatures to salute one another ... with a chaste
kiss, mistress."

Then as she seemed to demur, he added by way of persuasion:

"I am not altogether a poor man, mistress; and there is that in my
coffer upstairs put by, as would please thee in the future."

"Nay! I was not thinking of the money, Master Busy," said this daughter
of Eve, coyly, as she held a rosy cheek out in the direction of the
righteous man.

'Tis the duty even of a veracious chronicler to draw a discreet veil
over certain scenes full of blissful moments for those whom he portrays.

There are no data extant as to what occurred during the next few
seconds in the old oak-beamed dining-room of Acol Court in the Island of
Thanet. Certain it is that when next we get a peep at Master
Hymn-of-Praise Busy and Mistress Charity Haggett, they are standing side
by side, he looking somewhat shame-faced in the midst of his obvious
joy, and she supremely unconcerned, on