'He gripped my wrist so hard,' Lucy said, holding up her little hand like a child for pity. It is small wonder that George treated her as a child, and, taking the little hand in his, pressed a fervent kiss upon it. This seemed to recall Lucy from her clinging, softened mood. She sprang away from George with heightened colour, and said, with all her old brightness,-- 'I have news for you. I am going to London to see the tourney, and I am to be one of my Lady of Pembroke's waiting-women. Isn't that grand news?' Poor George! his dream of bliss was over now. 'Going away!--for how long a space?' he exclaimed. 'Ah! that I cannot tell you, for more weeks or months than I can count, may be.' George, who had with Humphrey done his utmost to persuade their mother to consent to take Lucy with her, in the event of her going to London, without success, or, rather, without a distinct promise that she would do so, was fairly bewildered. 'How did it come about?' he asked. 'Oh! that is a question, indeed, Master Ratcliffe. There is someone you know of who can bring about what he wishes. It is he who has commended me to my Lady Pembroke, hearing, it may be, from your brother, that I wished to see the tourney, and the Queen, and all the fine doings. Mr Sidney came himself to offer the place of waiting-woman to me.' 'Came himself!' George exclaimed. 'And, prithee, why not; am I beneath his notice as I am beneath your mother's? It seems not.' George had not time to reply, for, on the square of turf before the house, Mistress Ratcliffe and her niece, Dorothy Ratcliffe, were apparently awaiting their arrival. 'You are late, George, as is your wont,' his mother said. 'Doll must make you more mindful of the fixed time for meals. Is this young woman Mistress Forrester's daughter? I bid you kindly welcome.' 'I thank you, madam,' Lucy said. 'I have seen you many a time, and, methinks, you must have seen me; but, doubtless, I was not like to be remembered by such as you and Mistress Dorothy.' This little thrust passed unnoticed. Mistress Ratcliffe merely said,-- 'George, lead your cousin Doll to the hall, for supper is served. Mistress Lucy, will you permit me to take your hand?' Lucy made another curtsey, as George, with a rueful face, obeyed his mother and handed his cousin up the stone steps to the porch, his mother and Lucy following. Mistress Ratcliffe was attired in her best gown, with a long-pointed waist and tight sleeves slashed with purple. Her ruff rivalled the Queen's in thickness and height; and the heavy folds of her lute-string skirt were held out by a wide hoop, which occupied the somewhat narrow doorway as they entered the hall.