"But I must tell thee, Merrylips," he said hesitatingly. "'Twill not be so easy as thou dost think, and as I did think when I was a little boy. For after we fled from Larkland, we came unto Oxford, and there I took courage to tell my story once again unto a great magistrate. "This magistrate asked me questions: what was my father's Christian name? what was my mother's surname ere she was married? And I could not tell him, nor where I was born, nor by whom christened. And when I showed him the ring, he said, how could I prove that it had not been stolen and given to me, a peasant boy, to bring into England, if haply I might win money with a lying tale of my gentle birth. And he called me impostor and bade me begone out of Oxford, and threatened to take the ring from me. "So after that we said no more, Claus and I, for indeed it seemed hopeless. And we went into the king's army to win us bread till one day when I was older perhaps men would listen to me, or perhaps I might learn something further of my lost kinsfolk." "And so thou hast to-day!" cried Merrylips. "Ah, but will they believe me?" asked Rupert, wistfully. "Thou dost believe me, Merrylips, for thou art the kindest and truest little maid in all the world, and thou knowest I do not lie to thee. But will the grown folk believe me--thy godmother, and thy father, and thy brothers? Oh, Merrylips, dost think in truth that they will believe that I am son to Captain Lucas?" For one instant Merrylips hesitated. They were strange folk indeed, the grown folk. Even dear Lady Sybil had thought Claus and Rupert spies when they came, sick and weary, to Larkland. Even her brother Munn had looked on and smiled at the distress of the poor people at Storringham. They did not always believe and pity so quickly as did she, who was young and foolish. Maybe they would treat Rupert as that heartless magistrate at Oxford had treated him. But then Merrylips met Rupert's eyes, that had grown miserable with doubt in the moment while he saw her hesitate. So she hesitated no more. Laughing, she rose to her feet, and drew him up by the hand. "Word a' truth!" she cried in her stoutest voice. "They shall believe thee, Rupert. Come, let us be off this hour unto Walsover! They shall believe that thou art my godmother's nephew that was lost. And if they do not believe at first, why, Rupert, somehow we will win them to believe!" CHAPTER XXVII HOW RUPERT WAS TOO CLEVER After all the wonders of the last hour, Merrylips and Rupert were keyed high with excitement. They felt as if they could walk right along and never tire until they came to Walsover. But before they had gone a mile they found that Master Robert Lucas and Mistress Sybil Venner were just as hungry and footsore as those little ragamuffins, Rupert Hinkel and Tibbott Venner, had ever been.