"Whom chastise you, Mistress Drew?" inquired Bertram's voice through the door; "she that demeriteth the same, or she that no doth?" "This lazy maid demeriteth fifty rods!" was the pleasing answer. "I cry you mercy, but I think not so," said Bertram judicially. "An' you whipped the demeritous party, it should be Parnel. I saw all that chanced, by the lattice, but the maids saw not me." Parnel was not whipped, for her quickness made her a favourite; but neither was Maude, for Bertram's intercession rescued her. "The saints bless you, Master Bertram!" said Maude, at the next opportunity. "And the saints help me, for verily I have an hard life. I am all of a bire [hurry, confusion], and sore strangled [tired], from morn to night." "Poor little Maude!" answered Bertram pityingly. "Would I might shape thy matters better-good. Do the saints help, thinkest? Hugh Calverley saith no." "Talk you with such like evil fawtors, [factor, doer], Master Bertram?" asked Maude in a shocked voice. "Evil fawtors, forsooth! Hugh is no evil fawtor. How can I help but rede [attend to] his sayings? He is one of my fellows. And 'tis but what he hath from his father. Master Calverley is a squire of the Queen's Grace, and one of Sir John de Wycliffe's following." "Who is Sir John de Wycliffe?" said Maude. "One of the Lord Pope his Cardinals," laughed Bertram. "Get thee to thine herbs and pans, little Maude; and burden not thy head with Sir John de Wycliffe nor John de Northampton neither. Fare thee well, my maid. I must after my master for the hawking." But before Bertram turned away, Maude seized the opportunity to ask a question which had been troubling her for many a month. "If you be not in heavy bire, Master Bertram--" "Go to! What maketh a minute more nor less?" "Would it like you of your goodness to tell me, an' you wit, who dwelleth in the Castle of Pleshy?" "`An' I wit'! Well wis I. 'Tis my gracious Lord of Buckingham, brother unto our Lord of Cambridge." "Were you ever at Pleshy, Master Bertram?" "Truly, but a year gone, for the christening of the young Lord Humphrey." "And liked it you to tell me if you wot at all of one Hawise Gerard among the Lady's maidens?" Maude awaited the answer in no little suppressed eagerness. She had loved Cousin Hawise; and if she yet lived, though apart, she would not feel herself so utterly alone. Perhaps they might even meet again, some day. But Bertram shook his head. "I heard never the name," he said. "The Lady of Buckingham her maidens be Mistress Polegna and Mistress Sarah [fictitious persons]: their further names I wis not. But no Mistress Hawise saw I never." "I thank you much, Master Bertram, and will not stay you longer." But another shadow fell upon Maude's life. Poor, pretty, gentle, timid Cousin Hawise! What had become of her? The next opportunity she had, Maude inquired from Bertram, "What like dame were my Lady of Buckingham's greathood?"