“You said two!” she cried.

The sun rose higher, and the heat of the day set in. Mistress Percy’s interest in forest bloom and creature flagged. Instead of laughter, we had sighs at the length of way; the vines slid from her lap, and she took the faded flowers from her head and cast them aside. She talked no more, and by and by I felt her head droop against my shoulder.

“Madam is asleep,” said Diccon’s voice behind me.

“Ay,” I answered. “She’ll find a jack of mail but a hard pillow. And look to her that she does not fall.”

“I had best walk beside you, then,” he said.

I nodded, and he dismounted, and throwing the mare’s