ne of my Lord's knights; but for my
mother,--the women say she died the day I was born."

"I have ne father ne mother," responded Maude, sorrowfully, "ne none to
care for me in all the wide world."

"Careth Mistress Drew nought for thee?"

Maude's laugh was bitterly negative.

"Ne Parnel, thy fellow?"

"She striveth alway to abash [frighten] and trouble me," sighed Maude.

"Poor Maude!" said Bertram, looking concerned. "Wouldst have me care
for thee? May be I could render thy life somewhat lighter. If I talked
with Parnel--"

"It were to no good," said Maude, brushing away to get her sink clean.
"There is nothing but sharp words and snybbyngs [scoldings] all day
long; and if I give her word back, then will she challenge [accuse] me
to Mistress, and soothly I am aweary of life."

Weary of life at twelve years old! It was a new idea to Bertram, and he
had found no answer, when the sharp voice of Ursula Drew summoned Maude
away.

"Haste, child!" cried Ursula. "Thou art as long of coming as Advent
Sunday at Christmas. Now, by the time I be back, lay thou out for me on
the table four bundles of herbs from the dry herb closet--an handful of
knot-grass, and the like of shepherd's pouch, and of bramble-seeds, and
of plantain. Now, mark thou, the top leaves of the plantain only!
Leave me not find thee idling; but have yonder row of pans as bright as
a new tester when I come, and the herbs ready." [See note 3.]

Ursula bustled off, and Maude set to work at the pans. When they were
sufficiently scrubbed, she pulled off the dirty apron in which she had
been working, and went towards the dry herb closet. But she had not
reached it, when her wrist was caught and held in a grasp like that of a
vice.

"Whither goest, Mistress Maude?" demanded an unwelcome voice.

"Stay me not, I pray thee, Parnel!" said the child entreatingly.
"Mistress Drew hath bidden me lay out divers herbs against she cometh."

"What herbs be they?" inquired Parnel demurely, with an assumption of
gravity and superior knowledge which Maude knew, from sad experience, to
mask some project of mischief. But knowing also that peril lay in
silence, no less than in compliance, she reluctantly gave the
information.

"There is no shepherd's pouch in the closet," responded Parnel.

"Then whither must I seek it?" asked Maude.

"In the fields," said Parnel.

"Ay me!" exclaimed the child.

"And 'tis not in leaf, let be flower," added her torment