"Ask me another, Captain," said I. "But a wise woman would know where to
find friends, and Stafford's full of papishes, burn 'em!"

"Ah!"

"There's Bulbrook and Pippin Pat and Ducky Bellows; there's old
sack-face, the parson there, as good as a papist, very near. You keep your
eyes on those big houses in the East Gate. As for me, look at that back
and breast and good broad-sword there. Damn me if I don't rub 'em up and
come and have a ding with 'em at these rebels. On Naseby Field they were,
Captain, long before your time and mine, but they did good work against
these same bloody Stuarts. Crack t'other bottle, there's a good fellow.
I'm dry with talking and wet with fishing, and it'll do me good."

I pressed him to stay and 'have a good set to,' but he refused, and after
drinking enough to keep me dizzy for a week, he nipped out and ordered his
men to horse. I walked to the gate with him. He thanked me for my help and
good cheer, and said it was quite clear that the spy was nowhere in or
near the Hanyards. I renewed my greetings to Cornet Dobson and even sent
my respects to his lordship. Off they rode, and it was with a thankful
heart that, remembering my happy condition in time, I stumbled back up the
yard to the house-place, where madam and beaming Jane were awaiting me.



CHAPTER III

MISTRESS MARGARET WAYNFLETE