f the
whistle and the bow, thy betrothed, and Giles thy brother?"

"Nay, your Grace," said Dennet, hanging her head, "Giles Headley is my
betrothed--that is, when his time is served, he will be--father sets
great store by him, for he is the only one of our name to keep up the
armoury, and he has a mother, Sir, a mother at Salisbury. But oh, Sir,
Sir! Stephen is so good and brave a lad! He made in to save father
from the robbers, and he draws the best bow in Cheapside, and he can
grave steel as well as Tibble himself, and this is the whistle your
Grace wots of."

Henry listened with an amused smile that grew broader as Dennet's voice
all unconsciously became infinitely more animated and earnest, when she
began to plead Stephen's cause.

"Well, well, sweetheart," he said, "I trow thou must have the twain of
them, though," he added to the Cardinal, who smiled broadly, "it might
perchance be more for the maid's peace than she wots of now, were we to
leave this same knight of the whistle to be strung up at once, ere she
have found her heart; but in sooth that I cannot do, owing well-nigh a
life to him and his brother. Moreover, we may not have old Headley's
skill in weapons lost!"

Dennet held her hands close clasped while these words were spoken apart.
She felt as if her hope, half granted, were being snatched from her, as
another actor appeared on the scene, a gentleman in a lawyer's gown, and
square cap, which he doffed as he advanced and put his knee to the
ground before the King, who greeted him with, "Save you, good Sir
Thomas, a fair morning to you."

"They told me your Grace was in Council with my Lord Cardinal," said Sir
Thomas More; "but seeing that there was likewise this merry company, I
durst venture to thrust in, since my business is urgent."

Dennet here forgot court manners enough to cry out, "O your Grace! your
Grace, be pleased for pity's sake to let me have the pardon for them
first, or they'll be hanged and dead. I saw the gallows in Cheapside,
and when they are dead, what good will your Grace's mercy do them?"

"I see," said Sir Thomas. "This little maid's errand jumps with mine
own, which was to tell your Grace that unless there be speedy commands
to the Howards to hold their hands, there will be wailing like that of
Egypt in the City. The poor boys, who were but shouting and brawling
after the nature of mettled youth--the most with nought of malice--are
penned up like sheep for the slaug