“Prithee speak not of it again!” cried Wat in desperation.
It was curious, however, how content he was to remain in his present position, which Hugh fancied must be terribly irksome to him, Wat always finding it most difficult to sit still when anything active was going on. It made him fear that he might be more hurt than they knew. But the bonfires were in full blaze, and every great crackle and leap of flame caused Thomasin to tremble, so that Wat’s presence and protection were very grateful to her. And to him it was a new experience to be appealed to and looked up to as if he were a man; he found it exceedingly pleasant, he had never believed it could be so pleasant before. Mistress Tirell would have him go home with them, having an ointment which she thought excellent for burns, and though Thomasin could not endure to look upon the dressing, Wat thought her interest and sympathy showed the kindest heart in the world. In fact, it seemed to him that no one ever had been so sweet, and when he got back late, he was very angry that Hugh should be too sleepy to listen to his outpourings of admiration.
As for Hal, he had to keep out of his way all day, Wat scarce being able to withhold his hands from him, while to Hugh he talked perpetually of what had happened, and put numberless questions as to what he thought about it all.
“She was a silly maiden,” said Hugh, bluntly, “to shriek and run like a frightened hare.”
“Much thou knowest!” cried the indignant Wat. “Thou wouldst have had her sit and be burned, forsooth!”
“Well, ’tis no matter of mine. Thou hast thy hands burned so thou canst not work, and had to sit up like the master himself—poor Wat! I was sorry for thee!”
“It was not so bad,” said Wat, meditatively. “When thou art a grown man, thou wilt not care so much for all that foolish boy’s play. I shall have no more of it.”
Hugh burst into a laugh, as he shaped the graceful curve of a vine tendril.
“What has come to thee? Who was mad yesterday at having to play Master Sobersides?”
“I shall play the fool no more, I tell thee. What age, think you, might Mistress Thomasin be?”