But as the two children rose, they saw, for the first time, a tall young man in a smock frock, who was standing in the outer doorway. He must have heard every word that they had said, for he and the blowzy woman, Polly, were looking at each other wisely.
"Didst hear him say Ryeborough, Brother Kit?" cried Polly. "'Tis happy chance they came to us this hour, poor dears!"
"Ay, happy chance indeed!" the young man said, and clapped Rupert on the shoulder.
"Come, my fine cock!" he cried. "What say ye to riding to your journey's end, instead of shogging on your two feet?"
"I—I would be beholden unto no one!" stammered Rupert, in great alarm. "Let us go, sir!"
He fairly pleaded, and Merrylips, who was frightened to see him frightened, bit her lip and tried not to cry.
"Thou seest, Kit, the little one is near forspent, poor lamb!" said kindly Polly, and stroked Merrylips' tumbled hair.
"Don't 'ee be afeard now, pretty!" she comforted. "'Tis no trouble ye'll be to my brother Kit. He is drawing two wain-loads of horse-litter to Ryeborough this night. He'll find space to stow ye in the wain, all snug and cosey, and in the morn ye'll be safe with your cousin Smith."
"I ha' seen him in Ryeborough market-place," said Kit. "Smith! 'Tis a thick-set fellow, and serveth in my lord's own troop of carabineers."
When Rupert and Merrylips heard this, they were filled with terror. But they had to look pleased. They dared not do anything else. If they were to say now that they did not wish to go to Ryeborough, that they had no kinsman named Smith, and that all of Rupert's story was a lie, they were sure that they should suffer some dreadful punishment.