"Thank you for your kind wishes," replied Osbert with placid amiability. "I'm not sure the cat would." "Was there ever any mortal thing in this world so aggravating as a man?" demanded Anania, in tones which were not placid by any means. "Went down to Kepeharme Lane to find something out, and came back knowing ne'er a word about it! Do you think you've any brains, you horrid tease?" "Can't say: never saw them," answered Osbert sweetly. "I wonder if you have your match in the county!" "Oh, I don't think there's any doubt of that." "Well, at any rate, first thing to-morrow morning, if you please, back you go and ask him. And mind you don't let him slip through your fingers this time. He's as bad as an eel for that." "First thing! I can't, Anania. The Earl has sent word that he means to fly the new hawks at five o'clock to-morrow morning." "Bother the--hawks! Couldn't you go again to-night?" "No, they'll be gone to bed by now. Why, wife, what on earth does it matter to thee?" Anania's reply to this query was so sharp a snarl that Osbert let her alone thereafter. The next morning, when released from his duties, he went again to Kepeharme Lane--to hear that Stephen had set out on his return journey half-an-hour before. "Well, now, it's plain to me what _that_ means!" announced Anania solemnly, when this distressing fact was communicated to her. "He's married somebody he's ashamed of--some low creature, quite beneath him, whom he doesn't care to own. That must be the explanation. She's no better than she should be; take my word for it!" "That's quite possible," said Osbert drily. "There's another or two of us in that predicament." Anania flounced over on her couch, thereby making herself groan. "You are, and no mistake!" she growled. "Father Vincent said, when he married us, that you and I were thenceforth one, my dearest!" was the pleasing response. "What in the name of wonder I ever wished to marry you for--!" "I will leave you to consider it, my darling, and tell me when I come back," said Osbert, shutting the door and whistling the _Agnus_ as he went up Castle Street. "Well, if you aren't the worst, wickedest, aggravatingest man that ever worrited a poor helpless woman," commented Anania, as she turned on her uneasy couch, "my new boots are made of pear jelly!" But it did not occur to her to inquire of what the woman was made who habitually tormented that easy-tempered man, nor how much happier her home might have been had she learnt to bridle her own irritating tongue. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note 1. Close Roll, 32 Henry Third. About 5 pence per loaf according to modern value.