thy Ratcliffe being lifted from the pillion by
a serving man, attired in a smart riding-robe of crimson with gold buttons
and a hood of the same material to protect her head from the sun and the
keen east wind which had set in during the last few days.

'Good-day to you,' Dorothy said. 'I did not hope to find you here.
Methought you had set off for London days ago! Whence the delay?'

'I am waiting the Countess of Pembroke's pleasure,' Lucy said, with
heightened colour. 'The tourney has been put off.'

'As we all know,' Dorothy remarked, 'but it is well to be lodged in good
time, for all the quarters near Whitehall will be full to overflowing.
Prithee, let me come in out of the wind, it is enow to blow one's head off
one's shoulders.'

Lucy was unpleasantly conscious that she was in her ordinary dress, that
her blue homespun was old and faded, that her sleeves were tucked up, and
that there was neither ruff at her throat nor ruffles at her sleeves, that
her somewhat disordered locks were covered with a thick linen cap, while
Mistress Ratcliffe was smartly equipped for riding after the fashion of the
ladies of the time.

'Well-a-day,' Dorothy said. 'I am vexed you are disappointed. We are off at
sunrise on the morrow, staying a night at my father's house in Tunbridge,
and then on to London on the next day but one. Aunt Ratcliffe and my father
have business to go through about me and my jointure, for, after all, for
peace's sake, I shall have to wed with George, unless,' with a toss of her
head, 'I choose another suitor in London.'

Dorothy's small eyes were fastened on Lucy as she spoke. If she hoped the
information she had given would be unwelcome, she must have been
disappointed. Lucy was herself again, and forgot her shabby gown and
work-a-day attire, in the secret amusement she felt in Dorothy's way of
telling her proposed marriage with George Ratcliffe.

'It will save all further plague of suitors,' Dorothy continued, 'and there
is nought against George. If he is somewhat of a boor in manners, I can
cure him, and, come what may, I dare to say he will be a better husband in
the long run than Humphrey. What do you say, Mistress Lucy?'

'I dare to say both are good men and trusty,' was the answer, 'and both are
well thought of by everyone.'

'Ay, so I believe; but now tell me how comes it you are left out in the
cold like this? I vow I did my best to wheedle the old aunt yonder to let
you come in our train, bu