ore words to waste," he said, with a scorn in his voice
that stung Brilliana's cheeks to crimson. She turned hurriedly to the
little knot of Cavaliers, who chafed at having to witness what they
held to be the presumption of a Puritan in daring to bandy words with
a lady of quality.

"Gallants," she said, "this merry meeting calls for its baptism of
wine." As she spoke she struck upon the bell, shrewdly confident that
her wishes would be met. "Wine," she added, "the more precious that
it is wellnigh the last in our cellars."

As the Cavaliers came about her applauding with word and look, the
doors of the banqueting-room parted and Mrs. Satchell entered, full
of pomp and apple-red with pleasure, followed by Shard bearing a tray
of glasses, and by pretty, dimpling Tiffany bearing a goodly flagon
of wine and observing with demure approbation the covey of King's
gentlemen.

Mistress Satchell swam like a gall on towards the Cavaliers, her
great, red, spoon-shaped face damp with satisfaction. Playing at
heroine behind bombarded walls was all very well, but greeting of
timely gentry who had set heroines free was infinitely better.

"Heaven bless you, merry gentlemen," she chirruped. "Here is a cup of
comfort for you."

"Heaven bless you, merry matron," Bardon answered, as soberly as he
could, for indeed the sight of Mistress Satchell in her Sunday best
and in her most coming-on humor was not of a nature to strengthen
sobriety. Lord Fawley gasped as the virago swaggered towards his
companions, and young Ingrow popped his handkerchief into his mouth
and bit at it while he stared with eyes of nursery wonder at the
dame. Radlett winked as if dazzled by the whimsical apparition, and
Sir Rufus, familiar with Mrs. Satchell and her vagaries, was the only
member of his party who kept his countenance unchanged on her
entrance.

Brilliana was sympathetically swift to explain her astonishing
handwoman.

"Gentles," she said, "this is Mistress Satchell, who queens it in
times of peace over my kitchen, but who has proved herself my very
valiant adjutant during the siege."

The dame bridled with pride.

"I can handle a pike, my lords, I promise ye," she asserted; and
then, turning to Halfman for confirmation, "Can I not, Master
Halfman?"

Halfman slapped his thigh approvingly and answered to the Cavalier
with grave voice and smiling eyes.

"Never was pike so handled before, I promise ye."

The tone of his voice mimicked Mrs.