(people always preferred travelling in companies for security's sake),
and that, as there was a packet from Sir Ralf Sadler for Master
Richard, he had brought it down, accompanied by his friend, who was
anxious to pay his devoirs to the ladies, and though Will spoke to the
mother, he smiled and nodded comprehension at the daughter, who blushed
furiously, and set her spindle to twirl and leap so violently, as to
make the kitten believe the creature had taken fright, and was going to
escape. On she dashed with a sudden spring, involving herself and it
in the flax. The old watch-dog roused himself with a growl to keep
order. Cicely flung herself on the cat, Antony hurried to the rescue
to help her disentangle it, and received a fierce scratch for his
pains, which made him start back, while Mrs. Talbot put in her word.
"Ah, Master Babington, it is ill meddling with a cat in the toils,
specially for men folk! Here, Cis, hold her fast and I will soon have
her free. Still, Tib!"

Cicely's cheeks were of a still deeper colour as she held fast the
mischievous favourite, while the good mother untwisted the flax from
its little claws and supple limbs, while it winked, twisted its head
about sentimentally, purred, and altogether wore an air of injured
innocence and forgiveness.

"I am afraid, air, you receive nothing but damage at our house," said
Mrs. Talbot politely. "Hast drawn blood? Oh fie! thou ill-mannered
Tib! Will you have a tuft from a beaver to stop the blood?"

"Thanks, madam, no, it is a small scratch. I would, I would that I
could face truer perils for this lady's sake!"

"That I hope you will not, sir," said Richard, in a serious tone, which
conveyed a meaning to the ears of the initiated, though Will Cavendish
only laughed, and said,

"Our kinsman takes it gravely! It was in the days of our grandfathers
that ladies could throw a glove among the lions, and bid a knight fetch
it out for her love."

"It has not needed a lion to defeat Mr. Babington," observed Ned,
looking up from his book with a sober twinkle in his eye, which set
them all laughing, though his father declared that he ought to have his
ears boxed for a malapert varlet.

Will Cavendish declared that the least the fair damsel could do for her
knight-errant was to bind up his wounds, but Cis was too shy to show
any disposition so to do, and it was Mrs. Talbot who salved the scratch
for him. She had a feeling for the motherless youth, up