"And what is that?"
"A woman's hate; thy rival hast given thee the first token of success." They had reached the tower chamber and Janet began to prepare her mistress for bed.
"I cannot understand thee, I cannot grasp thy meaning."
"Neither would I have thee understand; for if I took from thee thy innocent mind, I would deprive thee of thy best weapon. Thou hadst better chatter of thy poor, grey frock thou wilt don on the morrow."
Katherine stood before a small mirror divested of her outer garments. The soft white thing that bound her graceful, sloping shoulders, had fallen loose displaying her glorious white neck and bosom. Janet caught the mirrored reflection and understood and answered,—
"Nay, thou hast no pulpy blisters, neither shalt have while I feed thee on pap and rub thee with oil; nor yet a flat chest for thy shoulders are sunk from prominence by its fulness."
"Shall I wear a low bodice thus, Janet?"
"Aye, Lambkin."
"And high-heeled boots and stays,—I must have stays before I appear at my lord's table."
"Thou shalt not have that 'twould squeeze thy beauteous mould." The faithful Janet unbound her nursling as if she had been a tiny babe and swathed her in a soft, warm thing, and bade her get to bed. Katherine jumped to the middle and lay panting, with happy eyes that had naught of sleep in them, until on a sudden Janet's voice rung like a menace on her ears.