"My brothers call me Merrylips," she said.
Rupert cocked his head, as if he thought the name odd, but he repeated, "Merrylips," and they laughed together.
"I never knew of such a maid," Rupert kept repeating. "How couldst thou walk as thou hast done, and fare so poorly, and not fret, thou that hast been reared a gentlewoman?"
Then he hesitated and seemed to remember something.
"Merrylips," he asked, "did I dream it, or didst thou say indeed that thou didst dwell with thy godmother at a place called Larkland?"
Merrylips nodded. Rupert passed his hand across his forehead.
"There was a house called Larkland," he said slowly, "when we came first into England, Claus and I, and a sickness was on me. And there was a kind little maid that led us home, and said we should be friends."
He paused, and sat gazing at Merrylips.
"Yes," she answered, "and next morning I sat in the cherry tree and saw thee stealing away from Larkland."
"Then it was thou indeed!" cried Rupert. "And I never knew thee, Tibbott,—Merrylips, I mean,—though I had thought upon thee often, for thou wast so kind, when every one was harsh unto us."