Mistress Davis called me aside and gave me some commission or other about dainties for the supper table. I had often exercised my skill in this way since I came to London. I went to the kitchen and asked Madge, the cook, to have all things in readiness for me, and then retiring to my closet, I prayed earnestly that all things might be ordered for the best. Then, leaving the matter where it belonged, I betook myself to the making of such a device in blanc-manger as should adorn the supper table and do honor to our guest. After the meal was over and Mistress Curtis had departed, Master and Mistress Davis called me into the parlor and bade me sit down. They told me that while I was most welcome to remain in their house and family as long as I needed a home, yet they could not but commend the spirit which led me to wish to earn mine own living. "It is not every great family to which I should like to send a young lady," said Master Davis, "but the Duke of Suffolk's household hath ever had a reputation for man-loving and godliness." "What like is his Grace?" I ventured to ask. Master Davis smiled. "Like a knight of the past age," said he. "More I will not tell you. The present Duchess is very young, but she hath been well brought up and comes of a good stock. She shows her sense in keeping my good sister Curtis at the head of her household. Well, then, my child, you shall wait upon the Duchess to-morrow, and if you are mutually pleased, you shall take the place my sister offers you. But remember, Loveday, that you are always to have a home in this house." I thanked him for his goodness as well as I could—for the rebellious tears would come in spite of me—saying I should never forget the kindness shown me in that house, and Mistress Hall's goodness. "The obligation hath been mutual, my dear," said Mistress Davis. "I do not know what the children will say, especially Bess and Helen." "And you will let me know so soon as you hear from mine uncle," said I. "Yes, indeed," answered Master Davis, but he sighed and the sigh was echoed by his wife. I knew that he had little hope of ever hearing from Gabriel Corbet again. Those were days (as they are still abroad) when a man could easily drop out of sight and never be found or heard of again. I have thought since that one reason why Master Davis was so ready to let me go, was a consideration for mine own safety. The Duke of Suffolk was in great favor with Henry, and was, indeed, his brother-in-law as well as god-father to the little Prince Edward, and he was one of the few men who dared cross the King's humor now and then. Gardiner hated him, but he was rather too high a quarry for that foul kite to fly at, bold as he was in those days. [Illustration] CHAPTER IX. HER GRACE.