Dame Agnes saved her conscience by the last clause, for gentle as Prince Edmund had generally been, he was as capable of going into a genuine Plantagenet passion as any of his more fiery brothers.
“But a maiden must be meeker and gentler?”
“Certes, Damosel,” said Agnes, spinning away.
The child reclined in her chair for a time in silence. Perhaps it was the suddenness of the next question which made the old lady drop her distaff.
“Dame, who is Sir John de Wycliffe?”
The distaff had to be recovered before the question could be considered.
“Ask at Dame Joan, Lady,” was the discreet reply.
“So I did; and she bade me ask at thee.”
“A priest, methinks,” said Agnes vaguely.
“Why, I knew that,” answered the child. “But what did he, or held he?—for ’tis somewhat naughty, folk say.”