I could have twisted Dame Elizabeth's neck for
meat for those children.

"And are you, in good sooth, so ill off as that?" said I. "No meat, and
only one esquelle in all the house?"

"Dame," said Hilda meekly, as in excuse, "our father was long ill, and
now is our mother likewise; and many things had to be sold to pay the
apothecary, and also while I waited on them could I not be at work; and
my little sisters are not old enough to do much. But truly it is only
these last few weeks that we have been quite so ill off as to have no
food, and I have been able to earn but a few deniers now and then--
enough to keep us alive, but no more."

"How much oweth you Dame Elizabeth?" said I.

"Dame, it is seven crowns for the hood I wrought, and three more for a
girdle was owing aforetime, and now four for kerchiefs broidering: it is
fourteen crowns in all. I should not need to ask charity if I could but
be paid my earnings. The apothecary said our mother was sick rather
from sorrow and want of nourishment than from any malady; and if the
good Dame would pay me, I might not only buy fresh matter for my work,
but perchance get food that would make my mother well--at least well
enough to sew, and then we should have two pairs of hands instead of
one. I do not beg, Dame!"

She louted low as she spoke, and took her little sister again by the
hand. "Come, Iolande; we keep Madame waiting."

"But hast thou got no money?" pleaded the barne. "Thou saidst to
Madeleine that we should bring some supper back. Thou didst, Hilda!"

"I did, darling," allowed her sister, looking a little ashamed. "I
could not peace the babe else, and--I hoped we should."

I could bear no more. The truth of those maids' story was in the little
one's bitter disappointment, and in poor Hilda's hungry eyes. Eyes
speak sooth, though lips be false.

"Come," said I. "I pray you, tarry but one moment more. You shall not
lose by it."

"We are at Madame's service," said Hilda.

I ran up degrees as fast as ever I could. As the saints would have it,
that very minute I oped the door, was Dame Elizabeth haling forth silver
in her lap, and afore her stood the jeweller's man awaiting to be paid.
Blame me who will, I fell straight on those gold pieces and silver
crowns.

"Fourteen crowns, Dame Elizabeth!" quoth I, all scant of breath.
"Quick! give me them--for Hilda la Vileyne--and if no, may God forgive
you, for I never will!"

Soothly, had the Archa