'I am sorry I was rude, Mistress Margery, but oh! I hate to be treated as a babe.'
Mistress Margery was easily mollified. She conspired with the rest of the family to spoil the boy, of whom it was said that he resembled his sister Ambrosia, who died of wasting sickness and was buried at Ludlow.
But Thomas had a brave spirit if his body was weak, and to all the refinement of his race he added indomitable courage and a perseverance which surmounted what seemed insuperable barriers.
When the avant-couriers had ridden off, Philip turned to Lucy.
'On which horse are you to ride, Mistress Forrester? Let me lift you to your place.'
Lucy was trembling with joy that Mr Sidney should care for her comfort, and, as we all know, joy lies very near the fount of tears.
She dare scarcely trust herself to speak, as she heard Mr Sidney call a groom to bring up the grey horse, Prince, for Mistress Forrester.
'Poor old Prince!' Philip said, stroking the horse's neck, who knew his hand and bowed his head in acknowledgment, 'he has been a trusty servant, and will carry you safely, I know. But bring hither another cushion for the pillion,' he called to an attendant, 'and put a package below, for Mistress Forrester's feet to rest upon.'
Then he lifted Lucy to her place, saying, as he did so,—
'Methinks Prince will not complain of the burden he has to carry to-day, it is but a feather's weight. See, place your feet on this roll, and let me cover them with the haircloth—so; does that suit you?'