“Do you see any green in this eye, young man?” said she. “And do you suppose that Poll Plackett has passed three-score and five winters in a hard world, and the same amount o’ summers to match ’em, not to have better wisdom than to give away milk warm from the cow to a gallus pair o’ strolling Egyptians?” “Don’t be hard-hearted, mother, I pray you,” said the young man in his beguiling speech. “If only you knew how hungry we are! Let us drink only a very little of your delicious milk, and God will reward you.” “Maybe, young man,” said Mistress Plackett, “and maybe He will reward me doubly for the little ye take not. However, here is the pail. Have a little drink, you Egyptian, for I am bound to say you have a very good-looking face.” “A thousand thanks,” said Gervase, eagerly seizing the milk-pail. “But first may I offer it to--to my friend?” “No, you may not,” said Mistress Plackett roundly. “But why may I not, good mother? We will take but a very little apiece.” But Mistress Plackett shook her head sternly. “Be your friend a man or a woman?” she said. “Can you not see that she is a young gentlewoman?” “Od burn me if I can!” said Mistress Poll. “A young woman she may be, but gentle she is not, to appear out of her sex. I will not have my honest pail go near such a shameless thing. Let her keep off, else you shall go wanting yourself.” “But, good mother----” “Let the young doxey keep off, I say. She shall not have a drop as I am a virtuous woman. And if I did but know where to find Master Tippet the thirdborough, she should be burned in the hand and whipped out o’ the county o’ Derby.” So shocked was Mistress Poll Plackett when she discovered the sex of the second Egyptian, that the first, for all his beguiling speech, was like to go hungry. Gervase and Anne were desperately keen-set, and they very well knew that it was within their power to take the milk-pail from the custody of this good lady, and to soften her protests by applying the milking stool to her head. But fierce as their hunger was, they yet hesitated to take such extreme measures. Still it was driving them so hard as sorely to try their forbearance. “The shameless hussy shall not touch a drop,” said Mistress Poll. “But you seem a proper and decent and fair-spoken youth, and ye shall sup a modest bellyful.” “Not a drop will I touch until my sister has drunk,” said Gervase. “Ye called her friend just now,” said Mistress Plackett grimly. “Sister and friend,” said the young man, with a profound air. “He who finds a friend in a sister has a sister for a friend.” Gervase spoke with much gravity, as if this gem of philosophy was worthy of the deepest consideration. He had already grasped the truth that there are occasions in life when it matters little what is said so long as it be well said. And in that age he would have been a poor-witted fellow who having been bred as a scholar could not readily assume the garb of wisdom.