“My father,” she cried, “prithee come here!”
“What is it, Francis?” asked Lord Stafford joining her.
“Dost see the boy on the cart that has just entered the yard?”
“What is he, think you?”
“My child, he is a carter. What doth make thee so full of interest in him?”
“Might it not be that as a carter he would go to Chartley sometimes?”
“Gramercy! I see thy meaning. How full of wit thou art!”
Francis smiled, much gratified.
“If it can be compassed would it not be excellent to enter Chartley as a carter? The thing is to get within the gates. Then the delivery of the letters would be easy.”