"I am come, on behalf of the Parliament, to search your house for arms."
Merrylips waited to hear no more. She knew that crossbows were arms, and she loved her own crossbow. She flew up the stairs, and as she did so, caught a glimpse of rough men in the hall, who were tearing down the pikes and fowling-pieces from the wall, and heeding old Roger never a bit.
In her chamber she seized her dear crossbow and ran down again to the parlor, where she posted herself in front of Lady Sybil.
"The Roundheads shall not have my arms!" she said.
The square-jawed man looked at her then, and smiled. He was sitting much at his ease, with his elbow on the table and a cup of wine within reach of his hand.
"That's a chopping wench," said he. "A kinswoman to your Ladyship?"
"A daughter to Sir Thomas Venner," Lady Sybil answered, in her coldest and sweetest voice.
"Then, on my word, a kinswoman of mine own!" cried the man. "I am William Lowry, my lass, your third cousin by the distaff side. Come! Wilt thou not give me a cousinly kiss?"