“Who be ‘they’?” asks Nell.
“Why, all manner of folks—great folk in especial,” saith she.
“Come, Blanche!” saith Edith, “where hast thou jostled with great folk?”
“An’ I have not,” quoth she, something hotly, “I reckon I may have talked with some that have.”
“No great folk—my Lord Dilston except—ever come to Derwent-side,” saith Edith.
“And could I not discourse with my Lord Dilston, if it so pleased him and me?” quoth Blanche, yet something angered.
“Come, my maids, fall not out,” saith Alice. “Thou well wist, Blanche, thou hast had no talk with my Lord Dilston, that is known all o’er for the bashfullest and silentest man with women ever was. I do marvel how he e’er gat wed, without his elders did order it for him.”
Well, at this we all laughed, and Alice turned the talk aside to other matter, for I think she saw that Blanche’s temper (which is ne’er that of an angel) were giving way.
I cannot help to be somewhat diseaseful, for it seemeth me as though Blanche might hint at Sir Edwin. And I do trust he hath not been a-flattering of her. She is metely well-looking,—good of stature, and a fair fresh face, grey eyen, and fair hair, as have the greater part of maids about here, but her nose turns up too much for beauty. She is not for to compare with me nor Edith.
I must ask at Sir Edwin to-morrow if he wist aught of Blanche. If I find him double-tongued—good lack! but methinks I would ne’er see him no more, though it should break mine heart—as I cast no doubt it should.