Herein told I no falsehood, for that day he said not a word touching mine eyes.
Then Cousin Bess looks up. Cousin Bess was by, but not Aunt Joyce.
“What manner of man, my lasses?” saith she.
I left Edith to make answer.
“Why,” saith she, “I reckon he might be ten years younger than Father, or may-be more: and—”
“Oh, not a young man, then?” saith Mother, as though she were fain it so were.
“Oh, nay,” quoth Edith: “but well-favoured, and of a fair hair and beard.”
“And clad of a dark green velvet jerkin,” saith Cousin Bess, “and tawny hose, with a rare white feather in ’s velvet bonnet?”
“That is he,” saith Edith.
“Good lack, then!”