And the innocent wonder of the sweet face filled the man with fear lest his child might have understood him. Yet still with his own persistence he asked,—
“But why dost thou not want to take him his victual, poppet?”
“I may not tell you, daddy dear, because I promised sure and fast I would not tell, but I’d rather he asked mother or you”—
“Asked us what, child?”
“To help him— Nay, father, please do not ask me, for I promised I would tell nobody, and he said they’d cut off his ears and burn his cheeks”—
“Tut, tut, he’s been scaring thee, thou silly little maid, and I doubt not asking thee to help him escape. Now isn’t that the great secret?”
“No, daddy—that is, perhaps he thought Pris would help him escape”—
“Pris? Why, what has she to do with this man, or thou with either of them?”
“Mother’s coming, and I don’t want to tell her, for she’d chide me so sharply if I did not give up the secret, and I promised, father dear, I promised, and you said I ought to die rather than tell a willful lie.”
“And so I did. Well, I’ll think on’t; go back to thy dishes now.”