Then Myles gathered himself up sheepishly. “My name is Myles Falworth,” said he, “and I am one of the squires of the body.”
“Oh! aye!” said the Lady Alice, suddenly. “Me thought I knew thy face. Art thou not the young man that I have seen in Lord George's train?”
“Yes, lady,” said Myles, wrapping and twining a piece of the broken vine in and out among his fingers. “Lord George hath often had me of late about his person.”
“And what dost thou do here, sirrah?” said Lady Anne, angrily. “How darest thou come so into our garden?”
“I meant not to come as I did,” said Myles, clumsily, and with a face hot and red. “But I slipped over the top of the wall and fell hastily into the garden. Truly, lady, I meant ye no harm or fright thereby.”
He looked so drolly abashed as he stood before them, with his clothes torn and soiled from the fall, his face red, and his eyes downcast, all the while industriously twisting the piece of clematis in and around his fingers, that Lady Anne's half-frightened anger could not last. She and her cousin exchanged glances, and smiled at one another.
“But,” said she at last, trying to draw her pretty brows together into a frown, “tell me; why didst thou seek to climb the wall?”
“I came to seek a ball,” said Myles, “which I struck over hither from the court beyond.”
“And wouldst thou come into our privy garden for no better reason than to find a ball?” said the young lady.
“Nay,” said Myles; “it was not so much to find the ball, but, in good sooth, I did truly strike it harder than need be, and so, gin I lost the ball, I could do no less than come and find it again, else our sport is done for the day. So it was I came hither.”