'Why,' she said, 'sometimes his advice shall fit a woman's mood; sometimes he goes astray, as in the case of these gloves. Cheverel is a skin that will stretch so that after one wearing you may not tell the thumbs from stocking-feet. Nevertheless, I would be rid of your cousin.' 'Not in this quarrel,' Katharine answered. 'Find him an honourable errand, and he shall go to Kathay.' Cicely threw the stretched cheverel glove into the fire. 'My knight shall give me a dozen pairs of silk, stitched with gold to stiffen them,' she said. 'You shall have six; but send your cousin in quest of the Islands of the Blest. They lie well out in the Western Ocean. If you can make him mislay his compass he will never come back to you.' Katharine laughed. 'I think he would come without compass or chart. Nevertheless, I will send me my letter by means of your knight to Bishop Gardiner.' Cicely Elliott hung her head on her chest. 'I do not ask its contents, but you may give it me.' Katharine brought it out from the bosom of her dress, and the dark girl passed it up her sleeve. 'This shall no doubt ruin you,' she said. 'But get you to our mistress. I will carry your letter.' Katharine started back. 'You!' she said. 'It was Sir Nicholas should have it conveyed.' 'That poor, silly old man shall not be hanged in this matter,' Cicely answered. 'It is all one to me. If Crummock would have had my head he could have shortened me by that much a year ago.' Katharine's eyes dilated proudly. 'Give me my letter,' she said; 'I will have no woman in trouble for me.' The dark girl laughed at her. 'Your letter is in my sleeve. No hands shall touch it before mine deliver it to him it is written to. Get you to our mistress. I thank you for an errand I may laugh over; laughter here is not over mirthful.' She stood side face to Katharine, her mouth puckered up into her smile, her eyes roguish, her hands clasped behind her back. 'Why, you see Cicely Elliott,' she said, 'whose folk all died after the Marquis of Exeter's rising, who has neither kith nor kin, nor house nor home. I had a man loved me passing well. He is dead with the rest; so I pass my time in pranks because the hours are heavy. To-day the prank is on thy side; take it as a gift the gods send, for to-morrow I may play thee one, since thou art soft, and fair, and tender. That is why they call me here the Magpie. My old knight will tell you I have tweaked his nose now and again, but I will not have him shortened by the head for thy sake.' 'Why, you are very bitter,' Katharine said. The girl answered, 'If your head ached as mine does now and again when I remember my men who are dead; if your head ached as mine does....' She stopped and gave a peal of laughter. 'Why, child, your face is like a startled moon. You have not stayed days enough here to have met many like me; but if you tarry here for long you will laugh much as I laugh, or you will have grown blind long since with weeping.'