“There are no gooseberries as yet, sir,” replied Betty, bewildered; but the knight only laughed and strode farther down the hill toward the brook. At that very moment Myles Standish pushed his round head and square shoulders through the trap door leading from the interior of the Fort to the flat roof, along the parapet of which his beloved guns were ranged, and lightly stepped off the ladder, saying,-- “Come out hither, Wright, and I’ll show you through the perspective glass the beginnings of my new house. Ha! Does not the hill show fairly against the sky?” “The Captain’s Hill, all men call it,” said William Wright, carefully coming out upon the roof, and shading his eyes with his hand as he looked across the water to the bold eminence, tree-crowned and majestic, upon whose skirts Standish had already erected a summer cottage soon to be solidified into a dwelling. “I know they do,” replied his companion absently, while he adjusted the clumsy glass solemnly deposited in his charge by the chiefs of the colony. “But I better like to call it Duxbury, for it minds me of hills I knew of old.” “I know no hills called Duxbury in England,” objected Wright cautiously. “Nay, the hills are called Pennine, but the place where I first saw them is in the manor of Duxbury. Ha! look you here, Wright, here’s matter close at hand more nearly concerning us than the Pennine hills. See you yonder?” “’Tis Mistress Carpenter and--and the man Gardiner,” stammered Wright, staring down into the valley at his feet. “Ay, and little Betty Alden picking posies so far away that she might as well be at home. Mind you, now, my friend, how close the rascal walks to the maiden’s side, and how those hawk’s eyen of his stare into her fair face; and by my faith, he’s grasping her hand and she, poor maid, knows not how to pull it away!” “She might an’ she would,” muttered William Wright jealously. “Oh, I know not, I know not,” retorted Myles, teasing him. “She’s but a withy lass, and mayhap afraid of him. Is it true she’s troth-plight to you, Wright?” “Yes--that is no; she never would give her promise sure and fast, but I had hoped”-- “Then, man, if you will be said by my advice, you’ll make down to the brook at best speed and secure that faltering hope before it is floated away like the flowers the silly maid is stripping off and flinging into the brook, not knowing what she’s about. Go down, Wright, and claim your own.” “Nay, Captain,” returned Wright, whose thin face had grown tallow-pale, and whose thin lips refused to take moisture from a tongue almost as dry. “If Mistress Carpenter finds her pleasure in such company and such folly I’ll not trouble her with mine. No, I’m not for a young gentlewoman who brings such manners and such morals from the wicked courts of kings.”