“That is it which shall work my ruin,” saith Edith, a-laughing.
“Therein art thou convict of laziness,” quoth Father.
“Item, on the ending of the said book, each of them that hath writ the same shall read over her own part therein from the beginning: and for so many times as she hath gainsaid her own words therein writ, shall forfeit each time one penny to the poor.”
“That will bring both Edith and me to beggary,” quoth Milly, “Only Nell shall come off scot-free. Father, have you writ nought that will catch her?”
“Item, the said book shall, when ended, but not aforetime, be open to the reading of Aubrey Louvaine, Lettice Louvaine, Joyce Morrell, and Anstace Banaster.”
“And none else? Alack the day!” saith Milly.
“I said not whom else,” quoth Father. “Be that as it like you.”
But I know well what should like me,—and that were, not so much as one pair of eyes beyond. Milly, I dare reckon—but if I go on it shall cost me two pence, so I will forbear.
“Well!” saith Edith, “one thing will I say, your leave granted, Father: and that is, I am fain you shall not read my part till it be done. I would lief be at my wisest on the last page.”
“Dear heart! I look to be wise on no page,” cries Milly.