"'Tis as we said," they chuckled. "He had but to see her beauty and find her a bigger devil than he, and 'twas done. The mettle of her- -damning and flogging him! Never was there a finer sight! She feared him no more than if he had been a spaniel--and he roaring and laughing till he was like to burst."

"Dost know who I am?" Sir Jeoffry was asking the child, grinning himself as he stood before her where she sat on the oaken settle on which he had lifted her.

"No," quoth little Mistress, her black brows drawn down, her handsome owl's eyes verily seeming to look him through and through in search of somewhat; for, in sooth, her rage abating before his jovial humour, the big burly laugher attracted her attention, though she was not disposed to show him that she leaned towards any favour or yielding.

"I am thy Dad," he said. "'Twas thy Dad thou gavest such a trouncing. And thou hast an arm, too. Let's cast an eye on it."

He took her wrist and pushed up her sleeve, but she dragged back.

"Will not be mauled," she cried. "Get away from me!"

He shouted with laughter again. He had seen that the little arm was as white and hard as marble, and had such muscles as a great boy might have been a braggart about.

"By Gad!" he said, elated. "What a wench of six years old. Wilt have my crop and trounce thy Dad again!"