been delivered, and she would feel alarmed at
his being away.

Ill news awaited his return. Dorothy was to go away with Margaret,
for she was ill, and Benedict had prescribed a change of air. He was
desperate, and in his desperation he was prepared to hazard anything
which promised the remotest chance of success; but alas! his ventures,
while resulting harmlessly, brought him no nearer the goal of his
ambition than he had been before.

"Roger," he said, "I shall get me to the Hall. Lettice should come
soon; bid her hasten back and tell her mistress I am there awaiting
her."

"Aye, I will tell her," replied the honest woodsman, "but methinks it
is a sorry chance. Thou art far more likely to be discovered than
to succeed, for there be many folks at the Hall, and few dare to be
friends of thine."

"Nevertheless, I shall attempt it, good Roger; dissuade me not."

"Faith, not I. 'Tis not for such as me to interfere. Thou art brave,
Master Manners, and art worthy of success; may it come to thee, say I.
But the Hall is full big to seek each other in; where shalt thou be?"

"In the dining-room."

"In the dining-room!" quoth Roger, in surprise. "The dining-room!
Thou'lt surely never look there? 'Tis as bare of hiding places as the
flat of my hand. Why not in the archer's room, or the tower?"

"I shall hide me behind the arras till she comes," replied Manners.

"The arras," laughed his companion, "why it will bulge out like the
monuments in Bakewell Church; the first who comes will spy thee out.
Take my advice, master, and wait in the tower. Why, the buttery were
safer than the dining-room."

"Tut, I shall go," he replied; "there is more to hide one than you wot
of, but my Dorothy knows it, and I shall meet her there;" and picking
up a bundle of wood he started off to the Hall.

He was not long upon the way, and when he arrived at his destination
there was no difficulty in getting into the kitchens, for he had been
there scores of times before, and his was quite a familiar figure now.

"Ho, Hubert," called one of the busy cooks as he entered the room,
"lend a hand with this steer; thou hast the strength of a bullock, I
verily believe."

Manners dropped the wood and good-naturedly lent the desired
assistance.

"An thou would'st chop it with this cleaver thou wert a good fellow,"
continued the cook, as, having got the beast upon the bench, he
surveyed its goodly proportions, and handed the cleaver to his
newly-f