l I care. You're welcome.'

'Hold your tongue, you knave,' Humphrey said; 'you are half-drunk now, I
warrant,' and Humphrey, going to the grating, asked,--

'Who craves admission at this hour of the night?'

'An it please you, Master, it is near cock-crow,' was the answer, 'and day
is breaking. I have ill news for Master Humphrey Ratcliffe, and must
deliver my message to his ear.'

'Ill news!' Humphrey repeated the words. His thoughts went first to his
mother, and then he remembered that she was safe in lodgings with Dorothy
and George.

'I am one, Ned Barton, cowherd to one Mistress Forrester. I've trudged many
a mile at the bidding of Mistress Gifford, who is in a sore plight.'

Humphrey did not hesitate now, he drew back the heavy bolts, and turned the
huge, rusty key in the lock, and threw open one side of the gate.

'Come in,' he said, 'and deliver your message.'

Ned, in his coarse smock, which was much travel-stained and worn, pulled
the lock of red hair which shadowed his forehead, in token of respect, and
shambled into the hall.

He was footsore and weary, and said,--

'By your leave, Master, I would be glad to rest, for I warrant my bones
ache.'

Humphrey pointed to a bench which was but dimly discernible in the dark
hall, lighted only by a thin wick floating in a small pan of oil, and bid
Ned seat himself, while he drew a mugful of ale from the barrel, which was
supposed to keep up the porter's strength and spirits during the
night-watch, and put it to Ned's lips.

He drank eagerly, and then said,--

'I've a letter for you, Master, in my pouch, but I was to say you were to
keep it to yourself. Mistress Gifford could scarce write it, for she is
sick, and no wonder. Look here, Master, I'd tramp twice twenty miles to
serve her, and find the boy.'

'Find the boy! You speak in riddles.'

Ned nodded till his abundant red hair fell in more than one stray lock over
his sunburnt, freckled face.

'Are there eavesdroppers at hand?' he asked.

The porter was snoring loudly, but Humphrey felt uncertain whether he was
feigning sleep, or had really resumed his broken slumber. He therefore bid
the boy follow him upstairs, first replacing bolt and bar, to make all
secure till the morning.

When he reached his room, which was up more than one flight of the winding
stone stairs, Ned stumbling after him, he struck a light with a flint and
kindled a small lamp, which hung from an iron hook in the roof.

'T