“’Tis excellently thought of, child, but there are guards within as well. ’Twould still require adroitness to accomplish the rest.”
“Trust me! If I can get within, the rest shall follow,” said she with great determination. “I will enter into talk with that carter and see what can be done with him. My father, do I bear myself in a manner befitting my garb?”
“Thou art a very model of pagehood, Francis. Go, my child. Heavy as the burden of this emprise is it seems to have shifted its weight to thy shoulders. Find if the lad 72 goes to Chartley, and if so, the way may be opened for us to enter therein. Divers means must be employed to accomplish our aims.”
The girl left the chamber and, assuming the careless frowardness of a page, sauntered into the yard.
“Good-morrow, my lad,” she said, stopping by the side of the boy who was busily engaged in removing sacks, baskets and other receptacles from the cart.
“Good-morrow, young sir,” returned the wight civilly. “It hath been some days since I saw your worshipful sir. Methought that you had gone away.”
“Nay; I tarry here still for there is good cheer to be found at the Red Hand,” quoth Francis with a bold swagger. “How busy thou art.”
“Yes; the likes o’ us have to be. What with loading the cart, delivering, and unloading again, and caring for the nag I find the time full.”
“And where doth it all go, lad?”
“To Chartley, sir.”