Lionel took place beside him and from narrowed lids looked smilingly at the young man’s happy countenance.
Mistress Rockhurst, who, solemnly seated at the end of her bench, had been a silent yet mightily observant witness of the whole scene, now, suddenly struck by the discontented expression of Edward Hare’s visage, addressed the youth:—
“What ails ye, Sir Edward?”
“I’m sick at stomach,” growled the candid baronet. “I hate a peacock.”
“Yet peacock is light fare,” said the lady, with a twinkle in her shrewd blue eye. “Sick at stomach, say you? There’s nothing better than a cup of marjoram water.”
Sir Edward flung the suggestion from him:—
“Water? Ugh!”
“When I say water,” amended she, “’tis strong water, aqua vitæ.”
“Aye,” quoth he, then, “that’s another matter. I’m not saying but a tass of it would warm the innards.”
She despised him heartily for a monstrous poor scion of a noble family; yet the housewife was too strong in her to resist the pleasure of ministering out of her store, even to an unworthy guest. She rose, chuckling, jingling her keys:—