Then once more she clung to Munn, and begged and pleaded as never before in her little life. "Oh, Munn! Sweetest brother! Thou canst not have the heart to leave me, when I have waited long. And 'tis so hateful at Larkland, with Mistress Lowry ever chiding and lessoning me, and Mr. Lowry, he cometh almost never among us now. And they say that daddy and thou and Longkin are evil men, and that I must hate the king--" "Say they so?" growled Stephen, the trooper. "Quiet, ye rebel imp!" As he said that, he shook Herbert, though Herbert had not so much as stirred. "And," Merrylips hurried on, "they say when I am older, I must wed Herbert Lowry yonder." Then it was Munn's turn to break into words. "Now renounce my soul!" he cried, and flushed to the hair, and then grew white under his coat of tan. "So that's Will Lowry's bent--to mate my sister with his ill-conditioned brat! Upon my conscience, Merrylips, I be half minded--" She held her breath, waiting to hear him bid her scramble on his horse's back. But after a moment he shook his head. "Nay, it must not be," he said sadly. "Monksfield is no place to which to bring a girl child. Ah, Merrylips, if thou wert but a young boy!" Merrylips clenched her hands. She was fairly trembling with a great idea that had come to her. When she tried to speak, she almost stammered. "Munn! Dearest Munn! Why should I not go as a boy--as thy little brother? Oh, I'll bear me like a boy! I'll never cry nor fret nor be weary. Oh, do but try me, Munn! Best brother! Sweetest brother! Let me go with thee as a little boy!" "Thou lookest a boy," said Munn, and tried to smile, as he pointed at her petticoat. "What of clothes?" "Faith, sir," cried Stephen, "if the little mistress be stayed for naught but a doublet and a pair of breeches, here they be, ready to hand!" As he spoke, the trooper began to unfasten Herbert's ruddy brown doublet, and at that Herbert screamed:-- "Do thou but wait! 'Tis thou shalt pay for this, Sybil Venner, when my mother cometh to hear on it!" "Be quiet!" bade Munn, in a stern voice. "And you, Stephen Plasket, hold your hand. Let me think!" He stood in the bridle-path, with his brows knit and his lips stiffened, while he tried to see his way clear, this young officer, who himself was after all no more than a boy. He knew that Monksfield was no place for Merrylips. He knew that he would disobey his captain's orders, if he should take a little girl thither. Yet he dreaded to leave her behind at Larkland. Not only did he hate to disappoint her so cruelly, but he was angry at the mere hint of her being brought up to make Herbert Lowry a wife. Besides he was afraid, hearing Herbert's outcry, that if she were left behind, she might be punished only for thinking to escape. In short, Munn felt that he could not leave his sister at Larkland. But at the same time he knew that he could not take her, as a girl, to Monksfield.