Brilliana beamed on him, a yielding sphinx.
“But then, supposing you should pick up some plate on the way, some gold plate by chance—”
Master Peter rubbed his grimy hands.
“Why, it were fine,” he admitted, gleefully; then added, with cunning, “Are you sure he is a Roundhead?”
“I am very sure he is your enemy,” Brilliana answered, sharply, “for he makes you his daily jape.”
The ugly boar-head looked uglier as it growled:
“Does he, the dog! I’d jape him if I gad my two hands upon him.”
“Why,” Brilliana asserted, now in the full tide of make-believe, “if you are a King’s man, he will be of the other side, he hates you so. I cannot think how you have earned his hatred, unless, indeed—” and she broke off suddenly and looked aside. Halfman would have given a shilling for a lonely place to laugh his fill in.
“Well, madam, well?” Master Rainham questioned, eagerly.
Brilliana faltered her answer.