Madam nodded with a satisfied air. “Better and better. Will you stay? I will pay you well.”
Alaine’s lips twitched. It seemed an amusing situation. Should she disclose her sex? She would not without first speaking to Jeanne. “I must consult my uncle,” she replied.
“Ah, yes; he is your uncle?”
“Not really, but the same as one; but for him I should be farther from home than I am now.”
“At all events, then, you can stay awhile. I can find plenty for both of you to do. My overseer has fallen ill, and there is not any one who can take his place; perhaps your uncle would help me there, and for you I can find writing to do. I have need of a secretary, being given to other employments which I like better than that of writing letters. Let me see, you must be better clad. My son’s clothes would be much too large for you. We will see what can be done. Call Trynje for me; you will find her in the sitting-room by this time.”
Alaine withdrew and summoned the girl, who ran ahead, Alaine slowly following.
From her chatelaine, from which depended many articles, Madam took a big key. “Go to the large chest, the oak one on the west side of the upper hall, and bring me a roll of linen,” she bade Trynje. “We must contrive a shirt for this boy, whom I shall take into the house.”
A red flush mounted to Alaine’s cheek, but she stood watching Trynje’s movements. As the girl knelt before the chest the sun shone on her yellow hair and smote the red of her cheek. She was a pleasant-looking little Dutch maid, round-faced and blue-eyed, slow of movement and of speech. Alaine waited while she brought the roll of linen and dropped it into Madam’s lap.
“This will do,” said that lady. “Here, boy, kneel here and I will measure you. Truly he has a pretty face,” she said aside to Trynje, and Trynje smiled at Alaine, who in good fellowship smiled back, and then Trynje dropped her eyes.
“Roll up the sleeve of that jerkin you wear,” Madam commanded, and Alaine obeyed. The firm, smooth arm, muscular and strong as it was, seemed too shapely and delicate for a boy, and Madam dropped the linen, looking searchingly into the girl’s face. “Stand up,” she said, and she herself arose, laying her hand lightly upon the girl’s shoulder. Then she laughed. “Here, Trynje,” she cried, “your blushes were for naught; ’tis not a boy at all, but a girl. Tell us your story, little maid. I might have known from the first.” And Alaine, smiling and blushing, gave an account of herself, but said nothing of her companion.