earnest conversation. And
as John turned in at the door (for Mr Rose would not follow) she heard
him say almost mournfully, "Alack! then there is no likelihood thereof.
Good morrow!"

"Not the least," Mr Rose replied; and then away he went down the street.

"An augury of evil!" murmured Robin, under his breath.

"What dost thou with evil this morrow, Robin?" asked John, cheerily,
coming into the room. "Be of good cheer, dear lad; the Lord sitteth
above all auguries, and hath granted thee the desire of thine heart."

Robin rose, and the light sprang to his eyes.

"Thekla Rose," pursued John, "seeth no good cause why she should not
change her name to Tremayne. But bide a minute, Robin, man; thou art
not to be wed to-morrow morning. Mr Rose addeth a condition which I
doubt not shall stick in thy throat."

"What?" said Robin, turning round, for he was on his way to leave the
room.

"But this," said John, lightly, "that will soon be over. Ye are not to
wed for three years."

Robin's face fell with a look as blank as though it had been thirty
years.

"How now?" asked Dr Thorpe, coming in from the barber. "Sir Tristram
looketh as woebegone as may lightly be. I am afeard the Princess Isoude
hath been sore cruel."

John told him the reason.

"And both be such ancient folk," resumed he, "they are afeard to be dead
and buried ere then. How now, Robin! take heart of grace, man! and make
a virtue of necessity. Thou art neither seventy nor eighty, nor is
Mistress Thekla within a month or twain of ninety. Good lack! a bit of
a younker of nineteen, quotha, to be a-fretting and a-fuming to be let
from wedding a smatchet of a lass of seventeen or so, until either have
picked up from some whither a scrap of discretion on their green
shoulders!"

"Thekla hath but sixteen years," said John; "and Rose thinketh her too
young to be wed yet."

"So should any man with common sense," replied Dr Thorpe. "Why, lad!
what can a maid of such tender years do to rule an house? I warrant
thee she should serve thy chicken at table with all the feathers on, and
amend thy stockings wrong side afore!"

"Nay," said Isoult, laughing; "her mother shall have learned her
something better than that."

"Get thee to thine accidence," said Dr Thorpe to Robin. "_Hic, haec,
hoc_, is a deal meeter for the like o' thee than prinking of wedding
doublets!"

"Dr Thorpe!" answered Robin, aggrievedly, "you alway treat me as though
I were a