Ralph Lisle had now reached the happiest hour of his life, and, in common with all humanity, he discovered that no happiness existed without alloy. As he rode round the lists, somewhat embarrassed at the shouts of applause with which he was greeted, the openly expressed opinions of the more matronly part of the fair sex, and the less public, but scarcely veiled admiration of the younger members of that all-powerful half of humanity, Bowerman, who rode next to him, kept saying, in a tone of intense scorn and hatred,-- "Certes, Lisle, you are an impudent braggart, an you take all this balderdash to yourself. You know full well you’d never have gotten off as you did had you not been shamefully favoured." Ralph felt very angry. He was deeply mortified, for he could not help knowing that there was great truth in the assertion, the power and address of the unknown knight having been clearly proved in his joust with Master Meaux. "You can’t say it was by favour I unhorsed the Sire de la Roche Guemené." "Ay, but I can, and do. ’Twas that minx of a cousin of yours who brought that about." "Bowerman," said Ralph, his face flushing up, and his mouth working, "if you dare to call my cousin a minx, I’ll beat you to a jelly." "Marry, will you? Forsooth, this braggart is growing apace! I shall call whom I like what name I like; and if you think you are going to stop me, you had better try. So there, master upstart!" and Bowerman snapped his fingers in Ralph’s face in utter contempt and malignant defiance. As they were exchanging these hasty words, they were passing, on their way out of the lists, the little girl and her rough attendant. This latter eyed Bowerman significantly, and seeing that he did not notice him, for both Ralph and Bowerman were too heated with their words to take notice of anyone in the crowd, the man nudged the leg of the latter as he passed, and so drew his attention to him. As soon as Bowerman saw who it was, he changed colour. "Hullo, my Trojan, what do you want?" he said, assuming a careless air. "Take this, ’twill tell its own tale," said the man, handing Bowerman a dirty scrap of paper. Meanwhile Ralph had noticed the little girl, and seeing how pleased she seemed, he reined up his horse and spoke to her. "Well, little maid, and where have you left your old father?" An amused expression passed over the child’s face, and her eyes shone with mischief, as she replied,-- "Ah, poor old man! He’s so infirm, think you, as to be scarce able to walk? Well, ’twas very kind of you to lend us your pony, and you will never be sorry for it." "Where do you live?" asked Ralph, surprised at her voice, and trying to remember where he had heard it. "Why, you know you saw me at Appuldurcombe Priory." "Marry, so I did, but I was busy with my Lord Captain then." "Ay, and with some one else, too. No marvel you had no eyes for me." This was a remark Ralph did not appreciate. "And what are you doing there?"