The Nest of the Sparrowhawk | Page 3

I'll seek service with a lady less
like to find such constant fault with a hard-working maid."
Master Courage had just returned carrying a large dish heaped up with
delicious looking pasties fresh from the oven, brown and crisp with
butter, and ornamented with sprigs of burrage which made them appear
exceedingly tempting.
Charity took the dish from the lad and heavy as it was, she carried it to
the table and placed it right in the very center of it. She rearranged the
sprigs of burrage, made a fresh disposition of the baskets of fruit, whilst
both the men watched her open-mouthed, agape at so much loveliness
and grace.
"And," she added significantly, looking with ill-concealed covetousness
at the succulent pasties, "where there's at least one dog or cat about the
place."
"I know not, mistress," said Hymn-of-Praise, "that thou wast over-fond
of domestic pets ... 'Tis sinful to ..."

"La! Master Busy, you ... hem ... thou mistakest my meaning. I have no
love for such creatures--but without so much as a kitten about the house,
prithee how am I to account to my mistress for the pasties and ... and
comfits ... not to speak of breakages."
"There is always Master Courage," suggested Hymn-of-Praise, with a
movement of the left eyelid which in the case of any one less saintly
might have been described as a sly wink.
"That there is not," interrupted the lad decisively; "my stomach rebels
against comfits, and sack-posset could never be laid to my door."
"I give thee assurance, Master Busy," concluded the young girl, "that
the county of Kent no longer suits my constitution. 'Tis London for me,
and thither will I go next year."
"'Tis a den of wickedness," commented Busy sententiously, "in spite of
my Lord Protector, who of a truth doth turn his back on the Saints and
hath even allowed the great George Fox and some of the Friends to
languish in prison, whilst profligacy holds undisputed sway. Master
Courage, meseems those mugs need washing a second time," he added,
with sudden irrelevance. "Take them to the kitchen, and do not let me
set eyes on thee until they shine like pieces of new silver."
Master Courage would have either resisted the order altogether, or at
any rate argued the point of the cleanliness of the mugs, had he dared;
but the saintly man possessed on occasions a heavy hand, and he also
wore boots which had very hard toes, and the lad realized from the
peremptory look in the butler's eyes that this was an occasion when
both hand and boot would serve to emphasize Master Busy's orders
with unpleasant force if he himself were at all slow to obey.
He tried to catch Charity's eye, but was made aware once more of the
eternal truth that women are perverse and fickle creatures, for she
would not look at him, and seemed absorbed in the rearrangement of
her kerchief.
With a deep sigh which should have spoken volumes to her adamantine

heart, Courage gathered all the mugs together by their handles, and
reluctantly marched out of the room once more.
Hymn-of-Praise Busy waited a moment or two until the clattering of
the pewter died away in the distance, then he edged a little closer to the
table whereat Mistress Charity seemed still very busy with the fruit,
and said haltingly:
"Didst thou really wish to go, mistress ... to leave thy fond, adoring
Hymn-of-Praise ... to go, mistress? ... and to break my heart?"
Charity's dainty head--with its tiny velvet cap edged with lawn which
hardly concealed sufficiently the wealth of her unruly brown hair--sank
meditatively upon her left shoulder.
"Lord, Master Busy," she said demurely, "how was a poor maid to
know that you meant it earnestly?"
"Meant it earnestly?"
"Yes ... a new kirtle ... a gold ring ... flowers ... and sack-posset and
pasties to all the guests," she explained. "Is that what you mean ...
hem ... what thou, meanest, Master Busy?"
"Of a surety, mistress ... and if thou wouldst allow me to ... to ..."
"To what, Master Busy?"
"To salute thee," said the saintly man, with a becoming blush, "as the
Lord doth allow his creatures to salute one another ... with a chaste kiss,
mistress."
Then as she seemed to demur, he added by way of persuasion:
"I am not altogether a poor man, mistress; and there is that in my coffer
upstairs put by, as would please thee in the future."
"Nay! I was not thinking of the money, Master Busy," said this
daughter of Eve, coyly, as she held a rosy cheek out in the direction of

the righteous man.
'Tis the duty even of a veracious chronicler to draw a discreet veil over
certain scenes full of blissful