So the blowzy woman did perhaps what any woman would have done, when she took Merrylips by the hand and drew her into the cottage. Merrylips went meekly, because the woman was so large and determined, and Rupert went because Merrylips went. Almost before they knew how they had come there, they both were seated in a warm chimney-corner, in a well-scoured kitchen. They had a big bowl of porridge to share between them, and the blowzy woman and her old father, who had sat nodding by the fire, were asking them a heap of questions. Merrylips ate the hot porridge in silence, but Rupert told the story that he had planned to tell. "My name is called Hal Smith," he said glibly, "and this is my cousin John. And we were put to school down in the Weald of Sussex, but we are fain to fight the--the Cavaliers--" he tried hard to say "wicked Cavaliers," but in that he failed utterly--"so we have quitted the school and are bound unto the army." "Lawk! The brave little hearts! Didst ever hear the like?" cried the woman, and filled their bowl afresh. But the old father chuckled. "Runaways, I's wager!" said he. "Pack 'em back to their schoolmaster, Daughter Polly." Of such a danger Rupert had never dreamed. For the first time he saw now that any grown folk would surely try to send them back to the school about which he had made up his clever story. He had told one fib from choice, and he found now, as often happens, that he must tell many more from necessity. "Nay, we are no runaways," he said, and he spoke fast and trembled a little. "Our cousin Smith hath sent for us--he that is our guardian. He is with the Parliament army. 'Tis to him we are going." "And where might 'a be serving, this kinsman Smith ye speak of?" croaked Polly's old father. Rupert wished to answer promptly, as if it were the truth that he told. So he spoke the first word that came into his head. "At Ryeborough," he said. "'Tis at Ryeborough our kinsman Smith doth serve. Ay, and we must lose no time in going unto him. Come, up wi' thee, John, and let us trudge!" He slipped from his seat, and caught Merrylips' hand. He was no less eager than she to be safe out of the cottage. But as the two children rose, they saw, for the first time, a tall young man in a smock frock, who was standing in the outer doorway. He must have heard every word that they had said, for he and the blowzy woman, Polly, were looking at each other wisely. "Didst hear him say Ryeborough, Brother Kit?" cried Polly. "'Tis happy chance they came to us this hour, poor dears!" "Ay, happy chance indeed!" the young man said, and clapped Rupert on the shoulder. "Come, my fine cock!" he cried. "What say ye to riding to your journey's end, instead of shogging on your two feet?" "I--I would be beholden unto no one!" stammered Rupert, in great alarm. "Let us go, sir!" He fairly pleaded, and Merrylips, who was frightened to see him frightened, bit her lip and tried not to cry.