Now if ever a young man who enjoyed surprising other folk, was neatly served, that young man was Lieutenant Dick Fowell. He stared at Merrylips, and rubbed his forehead, as if he could trust neither his eyes nor his ears. The elder of the two girls broke into laughter and clapped her hands. "Oh, Dick, thou shalt never hear the last of this!" she cried. But the other girl looked at Merrylips, and she seemed ready to weep. "Poor little lass!" she murmured. Then up stood Lady Caversham, in her gown of silk tabby. "Give that child unto me!" she said. She came across the room and without asking leave of any one, took Merrylips out of Munn's arms. Merrylips found herself sitting in Lady Caversham's lap, in a great chair by the hearth. The blaze of the fire winked and blurred through the tears that came fast to her eyes--why, she could not tell. "Oh!" she said. "I'm glad Munn told you. I'm wearied o' being a boy. I'm a little girl--a girl!" With that she dropped her head on Lady Caversham's kind breast and cried as in all her life she had never cried before. When Merrylips next took note of what went on round her, the younger girl was kneeling by her and loosing the broken shoes from her feet. The older girl was hovering near with a cup of wine, and as for good Lady Caversham, in the pauses of soothing Merrylips as if she were a baby, she was scolding Munn. Munn looked puzzled, and Dick Fowell, who stood near him, had for once not a single word to say. "Had you no wit at all?" said Lady Caversham to Munn. "Hush thee, precious child!" she spoke in quite a different tone to Merrylips. "To set this poor little tender maid in boy's dress and cast her among rude men! 'Tis all well now, poor little heart! Whilst you went about your riotous pleasures--" At that Dick Fowell and Munn exchanged nervous grins. Lady Caversham was a good woman, but sorely misinformed, if she thought riotous pleasures were to be found in a Roundhead prison. "No man can say what harm might have befallen her," Lady Caversham went on. "Cry, if 'twill ease thee, sweeting, but thou hast now no cause to weep! If you were son of mine, sirrah, I would cause you to repent this piece of stark folly. Come, honey, 'tis rest and quiet thou dost need." Up got Lady Caversham, with Merrylips still clasped in her arms. "Let me take him, mother," offered Dick Fowell. "Her, I should say." Lady Caversham waved him aside. "Methinks she hath been left long enough to the tendance of men," she said. "And blind as an owl thou must have been, Son Dick, not to have known her for a little maid." So Merrylips was borne away. She would have been glad to speak further with her brother Munn, but she felt too tired to ask that favor. She let herself be carried to an upper chamber, and there she was undressed and bathed and wrapped in fresh linen and laid in a soft bed.