eave the women thereon, that they may fly the faster if need be.
Set them and the childre behind, and thou, Jack, with me and Tom and
Dickon, stand out afore."

"They shall fly cruel slow on yon old black jade," said Tom, grinning.

"Master," inquired Dickon (who was a Somerset man), "if they catch I,
what shall they do to I?"

"Hold your idle tongues!" answered Dr Thorpe sternly, "and see that your
arms are in good order. Robin, shall we count thee a man, or as one of
the childre?"

"You shall not count me to be guarded, but to guard," said Robin,
stoutly.

"Well said," replied Dr Thorpe.

"Truly, good Doctor, on my word," interposed Philippa, "but you shall
not count me as a sely woman. I have handled a matchlock afore now, and
I can knock down a man an' I have hold of a poker. I stand to the
front, an' it like you."

"Well said, brave heart!" answered he. "So do."

So set, they awaited the death that might be at hand, and prayed to God
to guard them. All were brave enough but Dickon, and he shivered like
an aspen leaf.

"Thou white-livered [our ancestors believed literally that cowards had
white livers] dolt!" cried Dr Thorpe sharply, and took the matchlock out
of his hands. "Go behind for a child as thou art."

"And give me his matchlock," said Philippa.

"Take it," he answered. "You are ten times over the man that he is."

Slowly they heard the tramp of feet advancing nearer and nearer. All
were silent now. The feet gained the ridge of the hill--they crossed
it--they came forward on the road. All at once Avery, who was next that
side, threw down his matchlock with a shout.

"Forward, friends!" cried he triumphantly. "These are no rebels--these
are the King's Majesty's troops. See you not the royal lions flying at
the van? God be with the armies of England!"

The revulsion was great from such terror to comfort, joy, and
thankfulness. All came forward. The leader of the army looked at the
group, stayed his horse, and lifted his visor. A cry of joy broke from
Philippa and Isoult, for they saw beneath his helm a face that they had
known well in the old Calais days.

"Mrs Philippa Basset!" exclaimed he in amazement; "at the least if mine
eyes bewray me not. And Mrs Barry! God keep you both! How come you
here? and do you lack aid?"

"Your eyes be true men, my Lord Grey de Wilton," [Note 2] said Philippa,
"and right glad are mine to light on no unfriendlier face. Truly at the
first