minute, fingering
Katharine's hair, lifting the medallion upon her chest, poking her
dark eyes close to the embroidery on her stomacher. She had a trick of
standing with her side face to you, so that her body seemed very long
to her hips, and her dark eyes looked at you askance and roguish,
whilst her lips puckered to a smile, a little on one side.

'It was not your old knight called me Sweetlips,' Katharine said. 'I
miscalled him foully last night.'

Cicely Elliott threw back her head and laughed.

'Why, he is worshipful heavy to send on a message; but you may trust
his advice when he gives it.'

'I am come to think the same,' Katharine said; 'yet in this one matter
I cannot take it.'

Cicely Elliott had taken to herself the largest and highest of the
rooms set apart for these maids. The tapestries, which were her own,
were worked in fair reds and greens, like flowers. She had a great
silver mirror and many glass vases, in which were set flowers worked
in silver and enamel, and a large, thin box carved out of an
elephant's tusk, to hold her pins; and all these were presents from
the old knight.

'Why,' she said, 'sometimes his advice shall fit a woman's mood;
sometimes he goes astray, as in the case of these gloves. Cheverel is
a skin that will stretch so that after one wearing you may not tell
the thumbs from stocking-feet. Nevertheless, I would be rid of your
cousin.'

'Not in this quarrel,' Katharine answered. 'Find him an honourable
errand, and he shall go to Kathay.'

Cicely threw the stretched cheverel glove into the fire.

'My knight shall give me a dozen pairs of silk, stitched with gold to
stiffen them,' she said. 'You shall have six; but send your cousin in
quest of the Islands of the Blest. They lie well out in the Western
Ocean. If you can make him mislay his compass he will never come back
to you.'

Katharine laughed.

'I think he would come without compass or chart. Nevertheless, I will
send me my letter by means of your knight to Bishop Gardiner.'

Cicely Elliott hung her head on her chest.

'I do not ask its contents, but you may give it me.'

Katharine brought it out from the bosom of her dress, and the dark
girl passed it up her sleeve.

'This shall no doubt ruin you,' she said. 'But get you to our
mistress. I will carry your letter.'

Katharine started back.

'You!' she said. 'It was Sir Nicholas should have it conveyed.'

'That poor, silly old man shall not be hanged in this