"Mother," said he, when fairly run down; "'tis not a purchase—'tis a gift."
"By some one sillier than thyself, I warrant."
"I know not for that; I had it from a stranger."
"Stranger still," she replied sharply, chuckling at her own conceit.
"Look at it, mother. Know you such a one?"
The dame eyed it with no favour, but she turned it over with a curious look, at the same time lifting her eyes now and then towards the ceiling, as some train of recollection was awakening in her mind.
"Where gat ye this?" said Dame Eleanor, in a subdued but still querulous tone.
"On the hill-top yonder."
"Treasure-trove belongs to Sir John Byron.[21] The lord of the manor claims all from the finders."
"It was a gift."