was
taken prisoner there, where so few got quarter) cost me every crown I
could gather, so I even fell back on the skill I learned, like you, when
I was a lad, from a priest in the Abbey of Melrose. Ashamed of my craft
I am none, for it is better to paint banners and missals than to beg; and
now, for these five years, I am advanced to be Court painter to the King
himself, thanks to John Kirkmichael, Bishop of Orleans, who is of my far-
away kin. A sore fall it is, for a Hume of Polwarth; and strangely
enough do the French scribes write my name--'Hauves Poulvoir,' and
otherwise, so please you; but that is ever their wont with the best names
in all broad Scotland. Lo you, even now there is much ado with banner-
painting for the companies that march to help Orleans, ever and again."

"When the Maiden marches, father, you shall have banner-painting," said
the girl.

"Ay, lass, when the Maid marches, and when the lift falls and smoors the
laverocks we shall catch them in plenty. {8} But, Maid or no Maid, saving
your presence, sir, I need what we craftsmen (I pray you again to pardon
me) call an apprentice, and I offer you, if you are skilled as you say,
this honourable post, till you find a better."

My face grew red again with anger at the word "apprentice," and I know
not how I should have answered an offer so unworthy of my blood, when the
girl broke in--

"Till this gentleman marches with the flower of France against our old
enemy of England, you should say, father, and helps to show them another
Bannockburn on Loire-side."

"Ay, well, till then, if it likes you," he said, smiling. "Till then
there is bed, and meat, and the penny fee for him, till that great day."

"That is coming soon!" she cried, her eyes raised to heaven, and so fair
she looked, that, being a young man and of my complexion amorous, I could
not bear to be out of her company when I might be in it, so stooped my
pride to agree with him.

"Sir," I said, "I thank you heartily for your offer. You come of as good
a house as mine, and yours is the brag of the Border, as mine is of the
kingdom of Fife. If you can put your pride in your pouch, faith, so can
I; the rather that there is nothing else therein, and so room enough and
to spare. But, as touching what this gentle demoiselle has said, I may
march also, may I not, when the Maid rides to Orleans?"

"Ay, verify, with my goodwill, then you may," he cried, laughing, while
the lass frowned.