“Rail on thee, my dear lady—oh, I couldn’t!”
“You must, girl! And if you could swear a little ’twould be pure!”
“Swear, mem—me? Who at?”
“At Sir John Dering if possible.”
“But I don’t know how to swear, mem.”
“You’ve heard me often enough!”
“Aye, but I could never swear so sweet and ladylike as you, mem.”
“Why, then,” sighed her ladyship, “we must forgo your swearing, I suppose, though ’tis pity. But hark’ee, Bet, and mark this well! Should Sir John come endeavouring to persuade you to return to England, you will raise your eyebrows—so! Droop your eyelids—thus! and say: ‘Howbeit, sir, ’tis my pleasure to journey on to Paris!’ Then turn your back on him and send me to command your coach to the door——”
“Aye—and when it comes, my lady?”