eness.

"True, I had forgotten," he murmured. "Take your time, child--you will
take your time, I beg."

He waved his hand, and withdrew to rejoin his wife on the cabin-top.
Tilda studied the slips of paper, while Arthur Miles edged away again
towards the gunwale for another look into the magic water.

"Stop that!" she commanded, glancing up and catching him in the act.
"Stop that, and read these for me: I can't manage handwriting."

The boy took the first slip obediently and read aloud--

"_Madam, a horseman comes riding across the hill. The sun flashes full
on his arms. By my halidame 'tis the Knight Hospitaller!_"

"That seems pretty fair rot," criticised Tilda. "Let's 'ave the other."

"_ Madam, he has reined up his steed. He stands without._"

Here Arthur Miles paused and drew breath.

"Without what?"

"It doesn't say. _He stands without: he waves a hand. Shall I go ask
his errand? _"

"Is that all? . . . And Mortimer reckons I'll take from 'ere to
Stratford learnin' that little lot! Why, I can do it in arf-a-minute,
an' on my 'ead. You just listen. _Madam, a 'orseman_--No, wait a
moment. _Madam, a Norseman_--" Tilda hesitated and came to a halt.
"Would you mind sayin' it over again, Arthur Miles?" she asked politely.

"_Madam, a horseman comes riding_--"

"That'll do. _Madam, a--H--h--horseman_--Is that better?"

"You needn't strain at it so," said the boy. "Why, you're quite red in
the face!"

"Oh, yes, I need," said Tilda; "first-along, any'ow." She fell silent
for a space. "That Mortimer," she conceded, "isn' quite the ass that 'e
looks. This 'as got to take time, after all." She paused a moment in
thought, and then broke out, "Oh, Arthur Miles, the trouble you're
layin' on me--First, to be a mother--an' that's not 'ard. But, on top
o' that, lady!"

"Why should you be a lady?" he asked.

"Why?" Tilda echoed almost bitterly. "Oh, you needn' think I'll want
to marry yer when all's done. Why? Oh, merely to 'elp you, bein' the
sort you are. All you've got to do, bein' the sort you are, is to sit
quiet an' teach me. But I got to be a lady, if it costs me my shift."

CHAPTER XII.

PURSUED.

At ten o'clock Sam harnessed up again, and shortly before noon our
travellers left the waterway by which they had travelled hitherto, and
passed out to the right through a cut, less than a quarter of a mile
long, where a rising lock took them into the Stratford-on-Avon Canal.