At that Dick Fowell and Munn exchanged nervous grins. Lady Caversham was a good woman, but sorely misinformed, if she thought riotous pleasures were to be found in a Roundhead prison.
"No man can say what harm might have befallen her," Lady Caversham went on. "Cry, if 'twill ease thee, sweeting, but thou hast now no cause to weep! If you were son of mine, sirrah, I would cause you to repent this piece of stark folly. Come, honey, 'tis rest and quiet thou dost need."
Up got Lady Caversham, with Merrylips still clasped in her arms.
"Let me take him, mother," offered Dick Fowell. "Her, I should say."
Lady Caversham waved him aside.
"Methinks she hath been left long enough to the tendance of men," she said. "And blind as an owl thou must have been, Son Dick, not to have known her for a little maid."
So Merrylips was borne away. She would have been glad to speak further with her brother Munn, but she felt too tired to ask that favor. She let herself be carried to an upper chamber, and there she was undressed and bathed and wrapped in fresh linen and laid in a soft bed.
When she was cosey among the pillows, the older girl, Betteris, brought her a goblet of warm milk, and the younger girl, Allison, fed her with morsels of white bread and of roasted chicken. They would scarcely let the waiting-women touch her. It seemed as if they could not do enough for the little girl who in pity had helped their brother Dick in his time of need.
Merrylips felt sure that now all would be well with her, and with Rupert, and with Munn. So she fell gently asleep, and when she woke, the sunlight was shining in the room.
Allison and Betteris came in to see her soon. When they found her awake, Allison brought her bread and honey, and milk to drink. She told her, while she ate, that a gown was being made for her from one that was her own, and to-morrow, when it was ready, she should rise and dress and run about once more.