e
girl looked up and rushed to him crying out--

"It's you. Be you the country fellow who took me home? Where's father?"

Stead was so sorry for her that he took her up in his arms and said--

"Hodge Fitter is gone into town to look for him, my pretty. You must
wait here till he comes for you," and he would have kissed her, but she
turned her head away, pouted, and said, "I didn't give you leave to do
that, you lubber lad."

Steadfast was much diverted. He was now a tall sturdy youth of sixteen,
in a short smock frock, long leathern gaiters, and a round straw hat
of Patience's manufacture, and he felt too clumsy for the dainty little
being, whom he hastened to set on her small feet--in once smart but very
dilapidated shoes. His sisters were somewhat shocked at her impertinence
and Rusha breathed out "Oh--!"

"I am to wait here for Serjeant Gaythorn," observed the little damsel
somewhat consequentially. "Well! it is a strange little makeshift of a
place, but 'tis the fortune of war, and I have been in worse."

"It is beautiful!" said Rusha, "now we have got a glass window--and
a real door--and beds--" all which recent stages in improvement she
enumerated with a gasp of triumph and admiration between each.

"So you think," said little Mistress Gaythorn. "But I have lived in a
castle."

She was quite ready to tell her history. Her name was Emlyn, and the
early part of the eight years of her life had been spent at Sir Harry
Blythedale's castle, where her father had been butler and her mother my
lady's woman. Sir Harry had gone away to the wars, and in his absence
my lady had held out the castle (perhaps it was only a fortified house)
against General Waller, hoping and hoping in vain for Lord Goring to
come to her relief.

"That was worst of all," said Emlyn, "we had to hide in the cellars when
they fired at us--and broke all the windows, and a shot killed my
poor dear little kitten because she wouldn't stay down with me. And
we couldn't get any water, except by going out at night; young Master
George was wounded at the well. And they only gave us a tiny bit of
dry bread and salt meat every day, and it made little Ralph sick and he
died. And at last there was only enough for two days more--and a great
breach--that's a hole," she added condescendingly,--"big enough to drive
my lady's coach-and-six through in the court wall. So then my lady
sent out Master Steward with one of the best napkins on the end of a
stick--