or.

"What can I do?" cried Maude in dismay.

Still keeping tight hold of her wrist, Parnel answered the query by the
execution of a war-dance around Maude.

"Parnel, do leave go!" supplicated the prisoner.

"Mistress Maude is bidden lay out herbs!" sang the gaoler in amateur
recitative. "Mistress Maude hath no shepherd's pouch! Mistress Maude
is loth to go and pluck it!"

"Parnel, _do_ leave me go!"

"Mistress Maude doth not her mistress' bidding! Mistr--"

Suddenly breaking off, Parnel, who could be as quick as a lizard when
she chose, quitted her hold, and vanished out of sight in some
incomprehensible manner, as Ursula Drew marched into the kitchen.

"Now, then, where be those herbs?" demanded that authority, in a tone
indicative of a whipping.

"Mistress, I could not help it!" sobbed the worried child.

"By'r Lady, but thou canst help it if thou wilt!" returned Ursula.
"Reach me down the rod; thy laziness shall be well a-paid for once."

Maude sobbed helplessly, but made no effort to obey.

"Where be thine ears? Reach the rod!" reiterated Ursula.

"Whom chastise you, Mistress Drew?" inquired Bertram's voice through the
door; "she that demeriteth the same, or she that no doth?"

"This lazy maid demeriteth fifty rods!" was the pleasing answer.

"I cry you mercy, but I think not so," said Bertram judicially. "An'
you whipped the demeritous party, it should be Parnel. I saw all that
chanced, by the lattice, but the maids saw not me."

Parnel was not whipped, for her quickness made her a favourite; but
neither was Maude, for Bertram's intercession rescued her.

"The saints bless you, Master Bertram!" said Maude, at the next
opportunity. "And the saints help me, for verily I have an hard life.
I am all of a bire [hurry, confusion], and sore strangled [tired], from
morn to night."

"Poor little Maude!" answered Bertram pityingly. "Would I might shape
thy matters better-good. Do the saints help, thinkest? Hugh Calverley
saith no."

"Talk you with such like evil fawtors, [factor, doer], Master Bertram?"
asked Maude in a shocked voice.

"Evil fawtors, forsooth! Hugh is no evil fawtor. How can I help but
rede [attend to] his sayings? He is one of my fellows. And 'tis but
what he hath from his father. Master Calverley is a squire of the
Queen's Grace, and one of Sir John de Wycliffe's following."

"Who is Sir John de Wycliffe?" said Maude.

"One of the Lord Pope his Cardinals," laughed