" Madam, he has reined up his steed. He stands without."
Here Arthur Miles paused and drew breath.
"Without what?"
"It doesn't say. He stands without: he waves a hand. Shall I go ask his errand? "
"Is that all? . . . And Mortimer reckons I'll take from 'ere to Stratford learnin' that little lot! Why, I can do it in arf-a-minute, an' on my 'ead. You just listen. Madam, a 'orseman—No, wait a moment. Madam, a Norseman—" Tilda hesitated and came to a halt. "Would you mind sayin' it over again, Arthur Miles?" she asked politely.
"Madam, a horseman comes riding—"
"That'll do. Madam, a—H—h—horseman—Is that better?"
"You needn't strain at it so," said the boy. "Why, you're quite red in the face!"
"Oh, yes, I need," said Tilda; "first-along, any'ow." She fell silent for a space. "That Mortimer," she conceded, "isn' quite the ass that 'e looks. This 'as got to take time, after all." She paused a moment in thought, and then broke out, "Oh, Arthur Miles, the trouble you're layin' on me—First, to be a mother—an' that's not 'ard. But, on top o' that, lady!"
"Why should you be a lady?" he asked.