enuousness, but rather the first dawn of maidenly
reserve and modesty that reddened her cheek in a manner her mother
did not fail to observe.

Yet it was with more amusement than misgiving, for children played
at courtship like other games in mimicry of being grown up, and a
baronet's only son was in point of fact almost as much out of the
reach of a sea captain's daughter and clergyman's niece as a prince
of the blood royal; and Master Archfield would probably be
contracted long before he could choose for himself, for his family
were not likely to take into account that if Captain Woodford had
not been too severely wounded to come forward after the battle of
Southwold Bay he would have been knighted. On the strength of which
Anne, as her companions sometimes said, gave herself in consequence
more airs than Mistress Lucy ever did.

Sedley, a poor cousin, a destitute cavalier's orphan, who had been
placed on the foundation at Winchester College in hopes that he
might be provided for in the Church, would have been far more on her
level, and indeed Lady Archfield, a notable matchmaker, had already
hinted how suitable such a thing would be. However, the present
school character of Master Sedley, as well as her own observations,
by no means inclined Mrs. Woodford towards the boy, large limbed and
comely faced, but with a bullying, scowling air that did not augur
well for his wife or his parish.

Whether it were this lad's threats, or more likely, the fact that
all the Close was on the alert, Peregrine's exploits were less
frequent there, and began to extend to the outskirts of the city.
There were some fine yew trees on the southern borders, towards the
chalk down, with massive dark foliage upon stout ruddy branches,
among which Peregrine, armed with a fishing-rod, line, and hook, sat
perched, angling for what might be caught from unconscious
passengers along a path which led beneath.

From a market-woman's basket he abstracted thus a fowl! His "Ho!
ho! ho!" startled her into looking up, and seeing it apparently
resuscitated, and hovering aloft. Full of dismay, she hurried
shrieking away to tell the story of the bewitched chick at the
market-cross among her gossips.

His next capture was a chop from a butcher boy's tray, but this
involved more peril, for with a fierce oath that he would be
revenged on the Whiggish imp, the lad darted at the tree, in vain,
however, for Peregrine had dropped down on the other side,