To be sure, Merrylips was well punished for that blow. Mistress Lowry whipped her hands, and prayed over her. Then she sent her supperless to her chamber, and bade her pray that her naughty spirit might be broken. But Merrylips did not pray. Instead she curled up on the window-seat, and from within her gown took the silver ring that Lady Sybil had left with her, and kissed it and stroked it and talked to it. "I do think long to be at Walsover," she whispered. "But ere I go, I'd fain smack Herbert once again for a tittling talebearer. Ay, and I'd fain fight the wicked Roundheads, for Herbert and his mother be of their party, and O kind Lord! Thou knowest that they have used me much unhandsomely!" And if, at that point, under cover of the twilight, a tear or two fell on the silver ring, even Merrylips' big brothers could scarcely have blamed that poor little captive maid. CHAPTER XII A VENNER TO THE RESCUE! "Sybil! Hey, Sybil! Why dost not answer when I speak thee fair?" It was Herbert Lowry that spoke from the threshold of the hall, where Merrylips sat alone at her knitting. She raised her eyes from the tiresome stitches, and saw him standing there, and she thought to herself that never had she seen him look so well. He was wearing breeches and doublet of reddish brown stuff, with gilt buttons,--a suit that pleased her best of all his clothes. In the autumn sunlight that slanted through the door, his hair was touched with yellow, and the color of his skin seemed almost healthy. He had spoken too in a friendly voice. It was clear that he was ready to make up, after the quarrel of two weeks ago in which she had struck him. She was not sorry to be friends with him again. After all, she found Herbert better company than no company at all. "Look 'ee, Sybil!" said Herbert, as he met her eyes. He tiptoed into the hall, and held up before her a little creel and a long line. "The cook-maid hath given me a dainty bit to eat, and I've here a brave new line. What sayst thou if we go angling for gudgeons to-day in the brook under Nutfold wood?" Merrylips clapped her hands and forgave Herbert everything. "A-fishing? Wilt take me, Herbert? I've not cast a line in a twelvemonth. Oh, wilt thou truly take me, Herbert?" she cried. "Now hush!" he snapped. "'Tis like a silly girl to be squawking it out so all the house may hear. To be sure, I'll be gracious to take thee with me, Sybil, if thou'lt be good--" "I will!" promised Merrylips, headlong. "And do as I bid thee--" "Yes, yes!" cried Merrylips. "Let us be gone!"