"Roger," he said, "I shall get me to the Hall. Lettice should come
soon; bid her hasten back and tell her mistress I am there awaiting
her."

"Aye, I will tell her," replied the honest woodsman, "but methinks it
is a sorry chance. Thou art far more likely to be discovered than
to succeed, for there be many folks at the Hall, and few dare to be
friends of thine."

"Nevertheless, I shall attempt it, good Roger; dissuade me not."

"Faith, not I. 'Tis not for such as me to interfere. Thou art brave,
Master Manners, and art worthy of success; may it come to thee, say I.
But the Hall is full big to seek each other in; where shalt thou be?"

"In the dining-room."

"In the dining-room!" quoth Roger, in surprise. "The dining-room!
Thou'lt surely never look there? 'Tis as bare of hiding places as the
flat of my hand. Why not in the archer's room, or the tower?"

"I shall hide me behind the arras till she comes," replied Manners.

"The arras," laughed his companion, "why it will bulge out like the
monuments in Bakewell Church; the first who comes will spy thee out.
Take my advice, master, and wait in the tower. Why, the buttery were
safer than the dining-room."

"Tut, I shall go," he replied; "there is more to hide one than you wot
of, but my Dorothy knows it, and I shall meet her there;" and picking