little Angle smothered the rest in her rapturous embrace. "The ring,
Tata,--that would be the cream of all! Let him think that Rothgar gave
it to you, that he is your lover! I would give many kirtles to see his
face." "Rothgar?" Randalin's voice was light with scorn. "As likely
would! be to think him love-struck for the serving-wench who sparkled
her eyes at him, as he to think that Rothgar Lodbroksson could count for
aught with me! Yet I say nothing against the fun it would be. It may be
that if he take notice of the thing and question me--just to see how he
would look--" She broke off discreetly, but the one elf which the Abbot
had not exorcised crept out and danced in the dimple of her cheek.

Dearwyn shook her floral rod with an assumption of severity. "I trust he
will be sorely disquieted," she said. "He deserves no otherwise for his
behavior last winter. Are you so soft of heart, Tata, that you are never
going to reckon with him for that?"

The dimple-elf took wing and all the mischief in the girl's eyes seemed
to go with him. "Those days are buried," she said. "Let the earth grow
green above them." And suddenly she leaned forward and hid her face on
the other's shoulder. "Bring them not before me, Dearwyn, my friend,
until I am a little surer of my happiness. It is so new yet, Dearwyn, so
new! And it came to me so suddenly that sometimes it almost seems as
if it might depart as suddenly from me." A while they nestled together
without speaking, the little maid's cheek resting lovingly on her
friend's dark hair.

It was a page thrusting aside the arras that broke the spell. Opening
his mouth to make a flourishing announcement, the words were checked on
his tongue by four white hands motioning stern commands for silence.

"It is the King's Marshal," he framed with protesting lips. But even
that failed to gain him admittance.

Rising, flushed and smiling, the girl with the blue lilies in her
hair tiptoed toward him. "I have orders to receive the Marshal," she
whispered. "Where is he?"

"He is in the Old Room," the page answered rather resentfully, but
resigned himself as he remembered that, however this curtailed his
importance, it left open a prompter return to his game of leap-frog
along the passage.

In all probability his nimble departure saved him from a scolding for,
as she tripped after him down the corridor, a little frown was forming
between Randalin's brows. "I think it is not well-mannered of the f