ed her task just one day before the month was up,
and gave back the original to Richard Pynson, entreating him to make an
errand to Marston as soon as possible, and restore the book, with her
hearty thanks, into the hands of Master Carew.

On the evening of that day, Dame Lovell sat at work in the wide
chimney-corner of the hall. Near her was Mistress Katherine, scraping
almonds into a bowl; while Margery, occupied with her distaff, sat at a
little distance. On a wide oaken settle on the opposite side of the
fire lay Friar Andrew, taking a nap, as was his afternoon custom; while
on another settle drawn up before the fire, Sir Geoffrey and Richard
Pynson sat conversing with the ladies.

"Madge, lass, hast finished thy Breviary?" asked Sir Geoffrey. "An thou
hast, I would see it."

Margery's heart leaped into her mouth, for now was the time for the
discovery of her falsehood to be made. Simply replying, however, "I
will seek it, father," she rose and laid her distaff down.

"Ay, Madge is a feat scribe, truly!" remarked Dame Lovell, to Margery's
unspeakable distress. "She hath written two Breviaries, I wis."

"Two!" said Sir Geoffrey, laughing. "One for Sundays and feasts, and
the other for week-days? Madge, bring us both of them."

Margery left the room, and returned in a few minutes, with both the
books in her hand. Sir Geoffrey took them, and opened the illuminated
one--the genuine Breviary--first. Margery reseated herself, and took up
her distaff, but the thread was very uneven, and she broke it twice,
while her father turned over the leaves of the book, and praised her
writing and illuminations. His praise was sweet enough, but some time
he must come to the end, and _then_--!

How fervently Margery wished that Dame Lovell would ask an irrelevant
question, which might lead to conversation--that Friar Andrew would
awake--that Cicely would rush in with news of the cows having broken
into the garden--or that _anything_ would occur which would put a stop
to the examination of those volumes before Sir Geoffrey arrived at the
last leaf! But everything, as it always is under such circumstances,
was unusually quiet; and Sir Geoffrey fastened the silver clasps of the
Breviary, and opened the book without anything to hinder his doing so.
Margery stole furtive looks at her father over her distaff, and soon
observed an ominous look of displeasure creeping over his face. He
passed over several leaves--turned to t