“Mistress, I could not help it!” sobbed the worried child.
“By’r Lady, but thou canst help it if thou wilt!” returned Ursula. “Reach me down the rod; thy laziness shall be well a-paid for once.”
Maude sobbed helplessly, but made no effort to obey.
“Where be thine ears? Reach the rod!” reiterated Ursula.
“Whom chastise you, Mistress Drew?” inquired Bertram’s voice through the door; “she that demeriteth the same, or she that no doth?”
“This lazy maid demeriteth fifty rods!” was the pleasing answer.
“I cry you mercy, but I think not so,” said Bertram judicially. “An’ you whipped the demeritous party, it should be Parnel. I saw all that chanced, by the lattice, but the maids saw not me.”
Parnel was not whipped, for her quickness made her a favourite; but neither was Maude, for Bertram’s intercession rescued her.
“The saints bless you, Master Bertram!” said Maude, at the next opportunity. “And the saints help me, for verily I have an hard life. I am all of a bire (hurry, confusion), and sore strangled (tired), from morn to night.”
“Poor little Maude!” answered Bertram pityingly. “Would I might shape thy matters better-good. Do the saints help, thinkest? Hugh Calverley saith no.”