matter,' Cicely
answered. 'It is all one to me. If Crummock would have had my head he
could have shortened me by that much a year ago.'

Katharine's eyes dilated proudly.

'Give me my letter,' she said; 'I will have no woman in trouble for
me.'

The dark girl laughed at her.

'Your letter is in my sleeve. No hands shall touch it before mine
deliver it to him it is written to. Get you to our mistress. I thank
you for an errand I may laugh over; laughter here is not over
mirthful.'

She stood side face to Katharine, her mouth puckered up into her
smile, her eyes roguish, her hands clasped behind her back.

'Why, you see Cicely Elliott,' she said, 'whose folk all died after
the Marquis of Exeter's rising, who has neither kith nor kin, nor
house nor home. I had a man loved me passing well. He is dead with the
rest; so I pass my time in pranks because the hours are heavy. To-day
the prank is on thy side; take it as a gift the gods send, for
to-morrow I may play thee one, since thou art soft, and fair, and
tender. That is why they call me here the Magpie. My old knight will
tell you I have tweaked his nose now and again, but I will not have
him shortened by the head for thy sake.'

'Why, you are very bitter,' Katharine said.

The girl answered, 'If your head ached as mine does now and again when
I remember my men who are dead; if your head ached as mine does....'
She stopped and gave a peal of laughter. 'Why, child, your face is
like a startled moon. You have not stayed days enough here to have met
many like me; but if you tarry here for long you will laugh much as I
laugh, or you will have grown blind long since with weeping.'

Katharine said, 'Poor child, poor child!'

But the girl cried out, 'Get you gone, I say! In the Lady Mary's room
you shall find my old knight babbling with the maidens. Send him to
me, for my head aches scurvily, and he shall dip his handkerchief in
vinegar and set it upon my forehead.'

'Let me comb thy hair,' Katharine said; 'my hand is sovereign against
a headache.'

'No, get you gone,' the girl said harshly; 'I will have men of war to
do these errands for me.'

Katharine answered, 'Sit thee down. Thou wilt take my letter; I must
ease thy pains.'

'As like as not I shall scratch thy pink face,' Cicely said. 'At these
times I cannot bear the touch of a woman. It was a woman made my
father run with the Marquis of Exeter.'

'Sweetheart,' Katharine said softly, 'I could hold both