Isel and Flemild were somewhat dismayed to discover that their chosen guests could not understand a word they said, and were quite as unintelligible to them. Derette's mute offer to hold the baby was quickly comprehended; and when Isel, taking the woman and girl up the ladder, showed them a heap of clean straw, on which two thick rough rugs lay folded, they quite understood that their sleeping-place for the night was to be there. Isel led the way down again, placed a bowl of apples before the girl, laid a knife beside it, and beginning to pare one of the apples, soon made known to her what she required. In a similar manner she seated the woman in the chimney-corner, and put into her hands a petticoat which she was making for Derette. Both the strangers smiled and nodded, and went to work with a will, while Isel set on some of the fresh water just brought, and began to prepare supper. "Well, this is a queer fix as ever I saw!" muttered Isel, as she cleaned her fish ready for boiling. "It's true enough what my grandmother used to say--you never know, when you first open your eyes of a morning, what they'll light on afore you shut them at night. If one could talk to these outlandish folks, there'd be more sense in it. Flemild, I wonder if they've come across your father." "O Mother, couldn't we ask them?" "How, child? If I say, `Have you seen aught of an Englishman called Manning Brown?' as like as not they'll think I'm saying, `Come and eat this pie.'" Flemild laughed. "That first man talks," she said. "Ay, and he's gone with the lot. Just my luck!--always was. My father was sure to be killed in the wars, and my husband was safe to take it into his head to go and fight the Saracens, instead of stopping at home like a decent fellow to help his wife and bring up his children the way they should go. Well!--it can't be helped, I suppose." "Why did Father go to fight the Saracens?" demanded Derette, looking up from the baby. "Don't you know, Derette? It is to rescue our Lord's sepulchre," said Flemild. "Does He want it?" replied Derette. Flemild did not know how to answer. "It is a holy place, and ought not to be left in the hands of wicked people." "Are Saracens wicked people?" "Yes, of course--as bad as Jews. They are a sort of Jews, I believe; at any rate, they worship idols, and weave wicked spells." [Note 3.] "Is all the world full of wicked people?" "Pretty nigh, child!" said her mother, with a sigh. "The saints know that well enough." "I wonder if the saints do know," answered Derette meditatively, rocking the baby in her arms. "I should have thought they'd come and mend things, if they did. Why don't they, Mother?" "Bless you, child! The saints know their own business best. Come here and watch this pan whilst I make the sauce." The supper was ready, and was just about to be dished up, when Haimet entered, accompanied by the leader of the foreigners, to the evident delight of the guests.