'Why,' she said, 'sometimes his advice shall fit a woman's mood; sometimes he goes astray, as in the case of these gloves. Cheverel is a skin that will stretch so that after one wearing you may not tell the thumbs from stocking-feet. Nevertheless, I would be rid of your cousin.'
'Not in this quarrel,' Katharine answered. 'Find him an honourable errand, and he shall go to Kathay.'
Cicely threw the stretched cheverel glove into the fire.
'My knight shall give me a dozen pairs of silk, stitched with gold to stiffen them,' she said. 'You shall have six; but send your cousin in quest of the Islands of the Blest. They lie well out in the Western Ocean. If you can make him mislay his compass he will never come back to you.'
Katharine laughed.
'I think he would come without compass or chart. Nevertheless, I will send me my letter by means of your knight to Bishop Gardiner.'
Cicely Elliott hung her head on her chest.
'I do not ask its contents, but you may give it me.'
Katharine brought it out from the bosom of her dress, and the dark girl passed it up her sleeve.
'This shall no doubt ruin you,' she said. 'But get you to our mistress. I will carry your letter.'