“And so that is all you have to say, Master Richard?” says she, when I had made an end. “’Tis a pretty story to have been put in such a long-winded fashion. Methinks I can make it shorter. ’Tis your notion,” says she, looking at me keenly, “to bury Sir Nicholas Coope like a dog, under the floor, without rite or ceremony, and then to skulk out of the house which he would have defended as long as one stone had remained upon another. Am I right?” she cries. “Am I right, sir?” “Pray you, mistress,” says old Barbara. “Be guided by Master Dick--a man knows more o’ these things----” “Answer me, sir!” says she, disregarding Barbara. “Have I caught your meaning?” “Faith!” says I, somewhat nettled at her obstinacy. “I never knew man or woman who was less apt at apprehending anything. Prithee, cousin, since you think so badly of my schemes, will you be good enough to give us some plan of your own? Something,” I says, with a wave of my hand, “that will savour of more wisdom than aught my poor brains can invent. I am but a man and think after a slow fashion. You women, I am told, have a better ingenuity----” She gave me a look that stayed me from saying aught further. “I have naught to say,” says she, very quiet and dignified, “save that I shall do what I believe to be in accordance with my uncle’s wish and desires.” “Why, cousin,” says I, sore inclined to lose what little temper I had left, “do you mean to say that I am not of the same mind?” My temper went as a bit of thistledown is swept away before the wind. “By God!” says I, “I am fulfilling my uncle’s last command, and that was to protect you, cousin, at all cost. And now we’ll talk no more,” I says, cooling as quick as I had grown hot, “I’m for action rather than words. Come, lads,” I says, starting for the door, “we have no time to lose.” But ere I could lay hands on the sneck she was at my side, and her fingers held me tight by the arm. I looked into her eyes and saw them as full of entreaty as a moment before they had been bright with resentment. “You will not bury him--where you said?” she cries. For a moment I stood irresolute, staring at her. “We waste time,” whispers John Stirk at my elbow. “I must carry out my plans, cousin,” I answers, roughly. She drew away her fingers from my arm. “Cruel--cruel!” she says, and falls a-weeping on Barbara’s shoulder. “The devil!” says I, under my breath. “Cousin!” I says, approaching her, “what can we do else? Would you leave my uncle’s body to be stared at by the fellows outside, and maybe suffer indignity at their hands? Lord!” I says, well nigh beyond myself, “why wont you listen to reason?” But she put out her hand and waved me off. “Do what you please,” she says. Old Barbara gives me a look. “Come,” says I, and went out, followed by John and Humphrey. I wiped my forehead when I got outside--faith, it was warmer work debating with Alison than fighting a company of troopers!