"Couldn't be thought of!" was Stephen's decided though good-tempered answer: and the petitioners succumbed with a look of disappointment. "I might perchance have taken Gerard," Stephen allowed to his wife, out of the boy's hearing: "but to tell truth, I'm afraid of Anania's hearing his name--though, as like as not, she'll question me on the names of all the children, and who they were called after, and why we selected them, and if each were your choice or mine." "Better not, I think," said Ermine, with a smile. "I almost wish I could be hidden behind a curtain, to hear your talk with her." Stephen laughed. "Well, I won't deny that I rather enjoy putting spokes in her wheels," said he. The next morning he told Odinel to make up his goods, and he would carry them to Oxford on the following Monday. Odinel's parcel proved neither bulky nor heavy. Instead of requiring a sumpter-mule to carry it, it could readily be strapped at the back of Stephen's saddle, while the still smaller package of his own necessaries went in front. He set out about four o'clock on a spring morning, joining himself for the sake of safety to the convoy of travellers who started from the Black Bull in the Poultry, and arrived at the East Gate of Oxford before dark, on the Tuesday evening. His first care was to commit Odinel's goods to the safe care of mine host of the Blue Boar [Note 4] in Fish Street, as had been arranged. Here he supped on fried fish, rye bread, and cheese; and having shared the "grace-cup" of a fellow-traveller, set off for Saint John's anchorhold. A young woman in semi-conventual dress left the door just as he came up. Stephen doffed his cap as he asked her--"I pray you, are you the maid of the Lady Derette?" "I am," was the reply. "Do you wish speech of her?" "Would you beseech her to let me have a word with her at the casement?" The girl turned back into the anchorhold, and the next minute the casement was opened, and the comely, pleasant face of Derette appeared behind it. She looked a little older, but otherwise unaltered. There was nothing unusual in Stephen's request. Anchorites lived on alms, and were also visited to desire their prayers. The two ideas likely to occur to the maid as the object of Stephen's visit were therefore either a present to be offered, or intercession to be asked and probably purchased. "Christ save you, Lady!" said Stephen to his cousin. "Do you know me?" "Why, is it Stephen? Are you come back? I _am_ glad to see you." When the natural curiosity and interest of each was somewhat satisfied, Stephen asked Derette's advice as to going further. "You may safely go to see Mother," said she, "if you can be sure of your own tongue; for you will not meet Anania there. She has dislocated her ankle, and is lying in bed." "Poor soul! It seems a shame to say I'm glad to hear it; but really I should like to avoid her at Aunt Isel's, and to be able to come away at my own time from the Lodge."