"Oh, you say so, because I have been weeping," said the scarlet- hosed Gillian, for it was even herself who spoke; "and to be sure, I have good cause, for our lord was always my very good lord, and would sometimes chuck me under the chin, and call me buxom Gillian of Croydon--not that the good gentleman was ever uncivil, for he would thrust a silver twopennies into my hand at the same time.-- Oh! the friend that I have lost!--And I have had anger on his account too--I have seen old Raoul as sour as vinegar, and fit for no place but the kennel for a whole day about it; but, as I said to him, it was not for the like of me, to be affronting our master, and a great baron, about a chuck under the chin, or a kiss, or such like." "No wonder you are so sorry for so kind a master, dame," said the merchant. "No wonder, indeed," replied the dame, with a sigh; "and then what is to become of us?--It is like my young mistress will go to her aunt--or she will marry one of these Lacys that they talk so much of--or, at any rate, she will leave the castle; and it's like old Raoul and I will be turned to grass with the lord's old chargers. The Lord knows, they may as well hang him up with the old hounds, for he is both footless and fangless, and fit for nothing on earth that I know of." "Your young mistress is that lady in the mourning mantle," said the merchant, "who so nearly sunk down upon the body just now?" "In good troth is she, sir--and much cause she has to sink down. I am sure she will be to seek for such another father." "I see you are a most discerning woman, gossip Gillian," answered the merchant; "and yonder youth that supported her is her bridegroom?" "Much need she has for some one to support her," said Gillian; "and so have I for that matter, for what can poor old rusty Raoul do?" "But as to your young lady's marriage?" said the merchant. "No one knows more, than that such a thing was in treaty between our late lord and the great Constable of Chester, that came to-day but just in time to prevent the Welsh from cutting all our throats, and doing the Lord knoweth what mischief beside. But there is a marriage talked of, that is certain--and most folk think it must be for this smooth-cheeked boy, Damian, as they call him; for though the Constable has gotten a beard, which his nephew hath not, it is something too grizzled for a bridegroom's chin-- Besides, he goes to the Holy Wars--fittest place for all elderly warriors--I wish he would take Raoul with him.--But what is all this to what you were saying about your mourning wares even now?-- It is a sad truth, that my poor lord is gone--But what then?-- Well-a-day, you know the good old saw,-- 'Cloth must be wear, Eat beef and drink beer, Though the dead go to bier.' And for your merchandising, I am as like to help you with my good word as Mannerly Margery, provided you bid fair for it; since, if the lady loves me not so much, I can turn the steward round my finger."