led myself sorely as to what
Dame Hilda could mean. Kate was puzzled, too, for she said to Isabel--

"What means the Dame? I never saw my Lady wear a pearl set in copper."

"Oh, let be!" said Isabel. "'Tis but one of the Dame's strange sayings.
She is full of fantasies."

But whether Isabel were herself perplexed, or whether she understood,
and thought it better to shut our mouths, that cannot I tell to this
day.

Well, after that things were quiet again for a while: a very long while,
it seemed to me. I believe it was really about six months. During that
time, we saw much more of our mother than we used to do; she would come
often into the nursery, and take one of the little ones on her lap--it
was oftenest Blanche--and sit there with her. Sometimes she would talk
with Dame Hilda; but more frequently she was silent and sad, at times
looking long from the casement as if she saw somewhat that none other
eyes could see. Jack said one day--

"Whither go Mother's eyes when she looks out of the window?"

"For shame, Damsel [Note 3] John!" cried Dame Hilda. "`Mother,' indeed!
Only common children use such a word. Say `my Lady' if you please."

"She is my mother, isn't she?" said Jack stubbornly. "Why shouldn't I
call her so, I should like to know? But you haven't answered me, Dame."

"I know not what you mean, Damsel."

"Why, when she sits down in that chair, and takes Blanchette on her
knee,--her eyes go running out of the window first thing. Whither wend
they?"

"Children like you cannot understand," replied Dame Hilda, with one of
those superior smiles which used to make me feel so very naughty. It
seemed to say, "My poor, little, despicable insect, how could you dream
of supposing that your intellect was even with Mine?" (There, I have
writ that a capital M in red ink. To have answered to Dame Hilda's tone
when she put that smile on, it should have been in vermilion and gold
leaf.) Howbeit, Jack never cared for all the airs she put on.

"Then why don't you make us understand it?" said he.

I do not remember what Dame Hilda said to that, but I dare say she boxed
Jack's ears.

Deary me, how ill doth my tale get forward! Little things keep a-coming
to my mind, and I turn aside after them, like a second deer crossing the
path of the first. That shall never serve; I must keep to my quarry.

All this time our mother grew thinner and whiter. Poor soul, she loved
him well!--but so sure as the to