Now, to your
beds, children, and forget all about this tale."

"There, Humfrey," broke out Cis, as soon as they were alone together,
"Huckstress Tibbott _is_ a wise woman, whatever thou mayest say."

"How?" said Humfrey.

"Mindst thou not the day when I crossed her hand with the tester father
gave me?"

"When mother whipped thee for listening to fortune-tellers and wasting
thy substance. Ay, I mind it well," said Humfrey, "and how thou didst
stand simpering at her pack of lies, ere mother made thee sing another
tune."

"Nay, Humfrey, they were no lies, though I thought them so then. She
said I was not what I seemed, and that the Talbots' kennel would not
always hold one of the noble northern eagles. So Humfrey, sweet
Humfrey, thou must not make too sure of wedding me."

"I'll wed thee though all the lying old gipsy-wives in England wore
their false throats out in screeching out that I shall not," cried
Humfrey.

"But she must have known," said Cis, in an awestruck voice; "the
spirits must have spoken with her, and said that I am none of the
Talbots."

"Hath mother heard this?" asked Humfrey, recoiling a little, but never
thinking of the more plausible explanation.

"Oh no, no! tell her not, Humfrey, tell her not. She said she would
whip me again if ever I talked again of the follies that the
fortune-telling woman had gulled me with, for if they were not deceits,
they were worse. And, thou seest, they are worse, Humfrey!"

With which awe-stricken conclusion the children went off to bed.

CHAPTER VI.

THE BEWITCHED WHISTLE.

A child's point of view is so different from that of a grown person,
that the discovery did not make half so much difference to Cis as her
adopted parents expected. In fact it was like a dream to her. She
found her daily life and her surroundings the same, and her chief
interest was--at least apparently--how soon she could escape from
psalter and seam, to play with little Ned, and look out for the elder
boys returning, or watch for the Scottish Queen taking her daily ride.
Once, prompted by Antony, Cis had made a beautiful nosegay of lilies
and held it up to the Queen when she rode in at the gate on her return
from Buxton. She had been rewarded by the sweetest of smiles, but
Captain Talbot had said it must never happen again, or he should be
accused of letting billets pass in posies. The whole place was
pervaded, in fact, by an atmosphere of suspicion, and the vigila