matter," and as he
spoke he pointed to the iron ring fastened in the door post ready for
such contingencies.

"I suppose the arm must have it, then," he replied, "for I am sworn to
taste no wine until I have performed a solemn vow."

"Waste good wine!" exclaimed De Lacey, as he gazed in blank
astonishment at the speaker; "what a pity."

"Have you forsworn ale too?" asked Dorothy.

"No, only wine, sweet demoiselle," replied Manners, smiling as he
caught the drift of the question.

"Then fill his glass with ale," commanded Doll, "and drink the toast
without delay."

This happy suggestion was loudly applauded, and the healths were drunk
off amid acclamation, the only one who did not heartily join in it
being Sir Henry de la Zouch, who was annoyed to find that his
petty attempt to spite his rival had failed, and that, too, by the
intervention of Dorothy herself.

"Confound it all," he muttered, "he shall not escape me like this.
Eustace."

"Did you call?" asked the page, bending down.

"Yes," whispered De la Zouch. "Listen, you remember the Derby
packman?"

"Aye, too well, I do."

"Nonsense," he replied, softly; "Master Manners killed him."

"Oh!" gasped the astounded page.

"Remember," added his master, "it was Manners."

"Yes, Master John Manners," repeated Eustace.

"Hush, that is all. A little more of that delicious jelly of yours,
sweet Dorothy," he added in a louder tone as he turned round again to
the table.

Whilst the feast was progressing, De la Zouch was pondering the
fittest way of broaching the topic which lay so heavily upon his mind.
Sir Thomas Stanley had won the elder sister, he argued, why should he
not win the younger? He clearly saw that Dorothy was receding from his
grasp, and that the longer he delayed, the fainter grew his chance of
success. Lady Vernon daily grew less favourable too, he noticed, and
so without delay he resolved to ask Dorothy for her hand. The present
occasion was most propitious, and he determined to carry his plan into
operation at once.

When the meal was ended--and that was not very soon--the company broke
up into little parties and separated, to amuse themselves in whatever
fashion they liked best. Margaret, as the heroine of the day, was
surrounded by a number of knights and ladies, who contentedly watched
her as she played at chess with Benedict. Sir John de Lacey racked his
brains to the uttermost in order to sufficiently garnish the veracious
little