of late,
"I reckon I must be thy _cavaliero_."

"Will you have my cap, _Milisent_?" saith _Robin_, o'er his shoulder.

"Thanks, I reckon I shall manage without," quoth she.

"Well, have a care you demean yourself as a _cavaliero_ should," saith
he. "Tell her she is the fairest maid in all the realm, and you shall
die o' despair an' you get not a glance from her sweet eyes."

"Nay, I'll leave that for you," saith _Milly_.

"Good. I will do mine utmost to mind it the next opportunity," quoth
_Robin_.

So, with mirth, come we up to _Dilston_ Hall.

My Lord was within, said the old serving-man, and so likewise were
Mistress _Jane_ and Mistress _Cicely_: so he led us across the hall,
that is set with divers coloured stones, of a fashion they have in
_Italy_, and into a pleasant chamber, where Mistress _Cicely_ was sat at
her frame a-work, and rose up right lovingly to welcome us. Mistress
_Jane_, said she, was in the garden: but my Lord come in the next
minute, and was right pleasant unto us after his sad and bashful
fashion, for never saw I a man like him, as bashful as any maid. Then
Mistress _Jane_ come anon, and bare us--to wit, _Milisent_ and me--away
to her own chamber, where she gave us sweet cakes and muscadel; and
Mistress _Cicely_ came too. And a jolly time should we have had, had it
not come into Mistress _Cicely's_ head to ask at us if it were true that
_Blanche Lewthwaite_ was gone away with some gallant. I had need to say
Ay, for _Milisent_ kept her mouth close shut.

"And who were he?" quoth Mistress _Jane_. I answered that so far as we
heard he had passed by divers names, all about this vicinage: but the
name whereby he had called himself at _Mere Lea_ (which is Master
_Lewthwaite's_) was _Everett_.

"I warrant you, _Jane_," saith Mistress _Cicely_, "'tis the same
_Everett_ Farmer _Benson_ was so wroth with, for making up to his
_Margaret_. He said if ever he came nigh his house again, he should go
thence with a bullet more than he brought. A man past his youth, was
he, _Edith_, with fair shining hair--no grey in it--and mighty sweet
spoken?"

"Ay, that is he," said I, "or I mistake, Madam."

"Dear heart, but what an ill one must he be!" quoth Mistress _Jane_.
"Why he made old _Nanny's_ grand-daughter _Doll_ reckon he meant to wed
her, and promised to give her a silver chain for her neck this next
_Sunday_!"

All this while sat _Milisent_ still and spake never a word. I gat
discours