ut,
"Oh! father! Here's a soldier in the court! Kit is talking to him.
And he is Giles Headley that ran away. He has a beauteous Spanish
leathern coat, and a belt with silver bosses--and a morion that Phil
Smallbones saith to be of Milan, but I say it is French."

Stephen had no sooner gathered the import of this intelligence than he
sprang down almost as rapidly as his little boy, with his welcome. Nor
did Giles Headley return at all in the dilapidated condition that had
been predicted. He was stout, comely, and well fleshed, and very
handsomely clad and equipped in a foreign style, with nothing of the
lean wolfish appearance of Sir John Fulford. The two old comrades
heartily shook one another by the hand in real gladness at the meeting.
Stephen's welcome was crossed by the greeting and inquiry whether all
was well.

"Yea. The alderman is hale and hearty, but aged. Your mother is tabled
at a religious house at Salisbury."

"I know. I landed at Southampton and have seen her."

"And Dennet," Stephen added with a short laugh, "she could not wait for
you."

"No, verily. Did I not wot well that she cared not a fico for me? I
hoped when I made off that thou wouldst be the winner, Steve, and I am
right glad thou art, man."

"I can but thank thee, Giles," said Stephen, changing to the familiar
singular pronoun. "I have oft since thought what a foolish figure I
should have cut had I met thee among the Badgers, after having given leg
bail because I might not brook seeing thee wedded to her. For I was
sore tempted--only thou wast free, and mine indenture held me fast."

"Then it was so! And I did thee a good turn! For I tell thee, Steve, I
never knew how well I liked thee till I was wounded and sick among those
who heeded neither God nor man! But one word more, Stephen, ere we go
in. The Moor's little maiden, is she still unwedded?"

"Yea," was Stephen's answer. "She is still waiting-maid to Mistress
Roper, daughter to good Sir Thomas More; but alack, Giles, they are in
sore trouble, as it may be thou hast heard--and my poor brother is like
one distraught."

Ambrose did indeed meet Giles like one in a dream. He probably would
have made the same mechanical greeting, if the Emperor or the Pope had
been at that moment presented to him; but Dennet, who had been attending
to her father, made up all that was wanting in cordiality. She had
always had a certain sense of shame for having flouted her cousin,