Rivetts, showing them the kid, the calves, and the lambs,
taking Mistress Alice to the biggest cowslips and earliest wild roses,
and herself making a sweet posy for each of the ladies. The old Cavalier
himself, Colonel Harford, was even amused with the pretty little maid,
who, he told Dr. Eales, resembled Mirth as Master John Milton had
depicted her, ere he took up with General Cromwell and his crew; and was
a becoming figure for this early morn.

On learning the child's history, he turned out to know Sir Harry
Blythedale, but not to have heard of him since they had parted at
Newark, he to guard the king to Oxford, Sir Harry to join Lord Astley,
and he much feared that the old knight had been killed at Stowe, in the
fight between Astley and Brereton. This would account for nothing having
been heard from him about Emlyn, but Colonel Harford promised, if any
opportunity should offer, to communicate with Lady Blythedale, whom he
believed to be living at Worcester; and he patted Emlyn on the head,
called her a little loyal veteran, accepted a tiny posy of forget-me-not
from her, and after fumbling in his pocket, gave her a crown piece.
Steadfast and Patience were afraid it was his last, and much wished
she had contrived not to take it, but she said she should keep it for a
remembrance.

After this rest, the beautiful Whitsuntide Matins was said in the fair
forest church, and before six o'clock this strange and blessed festival
had ended, though not the peace and thankfulness in the hearts of the
little flock.

Indeed, instead of a sermon, Dr. Eales's parting words were "And he went
in the strength of that meat forty days and forty nights."

CHAPTER XVI. A FAIR OFFER.

"We be content," the keepers said,
"We three and you no less,
Then why should we of you be afraid,
As we never did transgress."
ROBIN HOOD BALLAD.

Steadfast was busy weeding the little patch of barley that lay near the
ruins of the old farm house with little Ben basking round him. The great
carefulness as to keeping the ground clear had been taught him by his
father, and was one reason why his fields, though so small, did not
often bear a bad crop. He heard his name called over the hedge, and
looking up saw the Squire, Mr. Elmwood, on horseback.

He came up, respectfully taking off his hat and standing with it in his
hand as was then the custom when thus spoken to. "What is this I hear,