She stood between the two strangers looking eagerly up with sorrowfully interested eyes, while Stephen, out of his full heart, told of his faithful comradeship with his hound from the infancy of both. Her father meanwhile was exchanging serious converse with her grandmother, and Giles finding himself left in the background, began: “Come hither, pretty coz, and I will tell thee of my Lady of Salisbury’s dainty little hounds.”
“I care not for dainty little hounds,” returned Dennet; “I want to hear of the poor faithful dog that flew at the wicked robber.”
“A mighty stir about a mere chance,” muttered Giles.
“I know what you did,” said Dennet, turning her bright brown eyes full upon him. “You took to your heels.”
Her look and little nod were so irresistibly comical that the two brothers could not help laughing; whereupon Giles Headley turned upon them in a passion.
“What mean ye by this insolence, you beggars’ brats picked up on the heath?”
“Better born than thou, braggart and coward that thou art!” broke forth Stephen, while Master Headley exclaimed, “How now, lads? No brawling here!”
Three voices spoke at once.
“They were insolent.”
“He reviled our birth.”