"Fox me no fox, as thou set store by thy golden locks!" said Alvena,
advancing towards the luckless Thurstan in a threatening attitude, with
the scissors open in her hand. "I'll fox him, and thee likewise. Go
and bring me the four ells of peltry of beasts ermines, and that of the
best, or thou shalt wake up to-morrow to find thy poll as clean as the
end of thine ugsome [ugly] nose."

Poor Thurstan, who was only a child of about ten years old, mistook
Alvena's jesting for earnest, and began to sob.

"But what can I, Mistress?" urged the terrified urchin. "Master Adam
saith he hath never a nail thereof, never name an ell."

"Alvena, trouble not the child," interposed Sybil.

But Sybil's gentle intercession would have availed little if it had not
been seconded by the unexpected appearance of the only person whom
Alvena feared.

"What is this?" inquired Dona Juana, in a tone of authority.

Thurstan, with a relieved air, subsided into his recess, and Alvena,
with a rather abashed one, began to explain that no ermine could be had
for the trimming of the blue satin dress.

"Then let it wait," decided the Mistress--for this was Juana's official
title. "Alvena, set the child a-work, and watch that she goeth rightly
thereabout. Sybil, sue thou me."

The departure of Juana and Sybil, for which Maude was privately rather
sorry, set Alvena's tongue again at liberty. She set Maude at work, on
a long hem, which was not particularly interesting; and herself began to
pin some trimming on a tunic of scarlet cloth.

"Pray you, Mistress Alvena," asked Maude at length--wedging her question
in among a quantity of small-talk--"hath the Lady Custance brethren or
sustren?"

"Sustren, not one; and trust me, child, an' thou knewest her as I do,
thou shouldst say one of her were enough. But she hath brethren twain--
the Lord Edward, which is her elder, and the Lord Richard, her younger.
The little Lord Richard is a sweet child as may lightly be seen; and
dearly the Lady Custance loveth him. But as for the Lord Edward--an' he
can do an ill turn, trust him for it."

"And what like is my Lord our master?" asked Maude.

Alvena laughed. "Sawest ever Ursula Drew bake bread, child?"

"Oh ay!" sighed the ex-scullery-maid.

"And hast marked how the dough, ere he be set in the oven, should take
any pattern thou list to set him on?"

"Ay."

"Then thou hast seen what the Lord Earl is like."

"But who setteth pattern on the Lord