“And what are you, sir?” she exclaimed, and laughed so harshly that even he winced a little. “Listen to me, Henge; this beauty--this young Mistress Carew--is penniless, and will have none of my wealth either. You want no such lady love as this, and need make no wry faces about it. If you behave as becomes your birth and station, you may even come and go at pleasure in my house, where, I think, you would come if you could. But hark ye, Barton; if I catch you at any of your devil tricks, I’ll have your ears off. Nay, scowl not, man; an old woman like me has naught to fear from you, and I know too much for you to brave me. Ah, I thought I saw you wince. Farewell, sir; here comes his grace of Suffolk, and ’twould kill me if I could not ask him to weep with me for the princess dowager; ’tis evident his grief sets well upon his stomach;” and she turned to greet the nobleman with a grim smile of enjoyment in the prospect. Meanwhile Sir Barton Henge stood discomfited, staring across the room at Betty and her cavalier with a face of fury. A man of violent temper, his first impulse was to engage in an open brawl, but his better judgment told him that an attempt to chastise Raby for his insolence would only end in his own arrest in the king’s presence. So he was forced to content himself with the reflection that when a better opportunity presented itself, he would make good use of it. Across the room Master Raby had forgotten him in looking at the fair face of Mistress Betty, for ’tis love that makes the world go round. CHAPTER XI OLD MADAM AT HOME