“I know it, Lettice.”

“They are in the little bower, and I could hear everything,” pursued the maid.  “That De la Zouch is jealous of another, and is seeking to get him out of the way.  He says that Master Manners killed the pedlar, and ’fore heaven, we all know it was the witch.”

“Master Manners?” echoed Dorothy.

“Yes,” returned the maid, “and he says he can prove it, but the good knight, your father, won’t believe him.  Master Manners denies it, of course—­but lack-a-day, what ails thee now?  Thou art as white as the veriest ghost!”

“’Tis nothing,” replied Doll, as she sank down into a chair.  “I am a trifle faint; give me some water, Lettice.”

“Nay, but it is something,” returned the other, as she speedily complied with her mistress’s behest.  “Thou canst not throw me off like that.  Come, my good lady, tell me what it is; there are few things you hide from me.”

“There is nothing to tell you, Lettice,” she replied, “but prithee go on; what did Sir Henry de la Zouch make answer?”

“He said he had a witness, but I had to hasten away, for I heard footsteps approaching; but come, I can read your secret; Master Manners will make a worthy knight.”

“Keep such thoughts to thyself, Lettice,” Dorothy blushingly replied.

“Trust me,” said the maid, with a toss of her pretty head.  “I will do thy bidding; but faith! you will be a comely pair.”

“Hush, or I shall be angry with thee.  I tell thee he has said naught yet.”

“And I tell thee, Mistress Dorothy,” returned Lettice, “he is head and ears in love with thee.  I would stake my troth on it; there!”

“I wish it were so,” sighed Dorothy, “for I love him dearly.”

“It is so, assuredly it is,” replied her companion, decisively.  “Let me give him a hint, my lady.”

“No, Lettice, not another word; don’t breathe it to a soul unless I bid thee.”

“My Will could do it,” continued the other, “an you would but let him try.  He can do anything that way, Will can.”

“Be quiet, Lettice; and mind you take care of your tongue.  No one must even so much as guess at the truth; there, begone.”

“Happen you would like to see if they have settled the matter?” suggested the tire-maid; “let us go and see.”

Dorothy willingly agreed, and away they went through room after room, until at last Lettice stopped.

“Let me open the window,” she said; “we shall hear better here than anywhere else,” and she stepped upon a chair and silently pushed the latticed window open.  The balmy breeze came pouring into the room, bringing in with it the sound of the conversation from outside.

“That’s splendid,” she said.  “Now, my lady, listen.”

“I tell you it’s of no use, Sir Henry.  I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Nevertheless, Sir George, it’s perfectly true.”

“Well, I cannot believe it,” returned the baron, sharply, “but all the same, you will have to fight him now.  We shall make quite a grand affair of it; ’tis a rare long time since there was a tournament at Haddon.”