"Yes: he has been giving me good counsel, and methinks that were a
good beginning. I would gladly see London. Men talk of its wonders,
and I can but sit and gape. I am aweary of the life of the
forest--the dreary life of the Gate House. In London I shall see
men--books--all the things my heart yearns after. And my mother's
kindred will scarce deny me a home with them till I can find
somewhat to do; albeit I barely know so much as their name, and my
father has held no manner of communication with them these many
years."

"Perchance they will not receive thee," suggested Kate, with a
laughing look in her eyes. "Then, good Cuthbert, thou wilt be
forced to trust to thine own mother wit for a livelihood. Then
perchance thou wilt not despise my poor little letter to my good
cousin Lord Culverhouse."

"Despise aught of yours, sweet Kate! Who has dared to say such a
thing?" asked Cuthbert hotly. "Any missive delivered to my keeping
by your hands shall be doubly precious. I will deliver it without
fail, be it to mine own advancement or no."

"Belike I shall claim your good offices yet, Master Letter
Carrier," answered Kate, with a laugh and a blush; "and I trow my
cousin will like you none the less for being bearer of my epistle.
But I am not to commend you to his good graces, as once I meant. It
is to your relatives you are first to look for help. It is like
rubbing the bloom off a ripe peach--all the romance is gone in a
moment! I had hoped that a career of adventure and glory lay before
you, and behold the goal is a home beneath a wool stapler's roof!"