“La, sweet your worship, one may lightly answer that, I ween. She will go with thee. They always do. She will ride with thee.”
“Ride with me? Nonsense!”
“But of a truth she will. She will ride with thee. Thou shalt see.”
“What? She browse around the hills and scour the woods with me—alone—and I as good as engaged to be married? Why, it’s scandalous. Think how it would look.”
My, the dear face that rose before me! The boy was eager to know all about this tender matter. I swore him to secrecy and then whispered her name—“Puss Flanagan.” He looked disappointed, and said he didn’t remember the countess. How natural it was for the little courtier to give her a rank. He asked me where she lived.
“In East Har—” I came to myself and stopped, a little confused; then I said, “Never mind, now; I’ll tell you some time.”
And might he see her? Would I let him see her some day?
It was but a little thing to promise—thirteen hundred years or so—and he so eager; so I said Yes. But I sighed; I couldn’t help it. And yet there was no sense in sighing, for she wasn’t born yet. But that is the way we are made: we don’t reason, where we feel; we just feel.
My expedition was all the talk that day and that night, and the boys were very good to me, and made much of me, and seemed to have forgotten their vexation and disappointment, and come to be as anxious for me to hive those ogres and set those ripe old virgins loose as if it were themselves that had the contract. Well, they were good children—but just children, that is all. And they gave me no end of points about how to scout for giants, and how to scoop them in; and they told me all sorts of charms against enchantments, and gave me salves and other rubbish to