“Oh, my dear, my dear!” she sobbed, with her apron to her eyes; “it’s glad I am to see you when you come, but I do wish you’d stay away.”
“Stay away! Why?”
“Because it only means fresh trouble whenever you come over here. I don’t care for myself a bit, my dear; but as soon as I see your bonny face, I begin to quake, for I know it means spies and soldiers coming after you and I expect to see you marched off to the Tower, and brought back with your head chopped off and put up along with the traitors. Don’t do it, my dear; don’t do it.”
“Don’t do what?” cried Frank impatiently.
“Don’t go running dreadful risks, my dear, and meddling with such matters. Let ’em have which king they like, and quarrel and fight about it; but don’t you have anything to do with it at all.”
“And don’t you try to interfere with matters you can’t understand, you dear old Berry,” cried the lad, kissing her affectionately.
“Ah! that’s like the dear little curly-headed boy who used to come and kiss me, and ask me to melt lumps of sugar in the wax candle to make him candy drops. I often think now, Master Frank, that you have forgotten your poor old nurse. Ah! I remember when you had the measles so badly, and your poor dear little face was red and dreadful—”
“Yes, yes, Berry; but I am so busy now. I expect some one to come.”
“Not the soldiers, my dear?”
“No, no, no!”