"No, no! my lady! Do you pretend to be a waiting wench. They are men from Derby mostly, and not like to know your face."
There was not a moment to be lost. Patience realised this, together with the certainty that her own coolness and presence of mind might prove the one chance of safety for her brother.
"Halt!" came in loud accents from the sergeant outside.
"The lock, Master Stich," said Patience, loudly and carelessly, as the sergeant stepped into the doorway, "is it ready? Her ladyship's coach is following me from Aldwark, and will be at the cross-roads anon."
"Quite ready, mistress," replied the smith, casting a rapid glance at the soldier, who stood in the entrance with hand to hat in military salute.
The latter took a rapid survey of the interior of the forge, then said politely,—
"Your pardon, ladies!"
"Well, and what is it now, Sergeant?" queried John, with affected impatience.
"I have heard that there's a stranger at your forge, smith," replied the soldier. "My corporal came down from Aldwark early this afternoon and told me about him. I'd like just to have a talk with him."
"One moment, Sergeant," said John, interposing his burly figure between Patience and the prying eyes of the young soldier.