Lady Mary was somewhat breathless. She could not climb the steep, stone stairs as quickly as her daughter.
'Mistress Gifford must stay and dine with us, Mary, and then Thomas shall show him the pictures in the new book Philip has brought him from London.'
'Are there pictures of horses and knights, madam?' Ambrose asked.
'They are Bible pictures, boy, but there are warriors amongst them, doubtless—Joshua and Samson, and, it may be, others.'
The big bell which, to this day, is heard far and near at Penshurst, was still making its loud, sonorous clang, and Lady Mary, taking Ambrose by the hand led him along the terrace, his mother at the other side, and Lucy following with Lady Pembroke.
Instead of immediately beginning to discuss the probability of Lucy's being placed in her household, Lady Pembroke said,—
'I have not seen you for some time. You have grown apace since my marriage. Yet my brother, when he spoke of you, called you Mistress Gifford's little sister. You are taller than I am, methinks.'
Lucy's face glowed with pleasure, as Lady Pembroke said this.
'And most like you have yet to grow a few inches.'
'Nay, madam; I am near sixteen.'