"He shall have a dearer anon, or I am no prophetess," exclaimed the convulsed Princess. "Maybe," said the King. "Well, fair Cousin, we will pleasure you in this matter,—the rather seeing"—and he turned to his mother with a smile—"that it shall pleasure your Grace as well." At this moment a slight noise outside preceded a scratching at the door, a lifting of the arras, and the announcement of—"My Lady’s Grace of Lancaster." The royal hosts took leave of their little guest rather hastily, yet very kindly, and thus dismissed, Roger was reconducted to Bermondsey House by Sir Lewis Clifford. There was a good deal to talk over when Roger and Lawrence were safely tucked up in their respective beds. "I say, Loll!" came from the big blue bed, "this is jolly!" "I am glad your Lordship is well content therewith," was the response in the quieter voice from the pallet. "I am so fain to get rid of yon Alice!" said unchivalrous Roger. "And I am right fain, too, to be out of this dull house. Who is Tom, I marvel, that she said I could lake me withal? Metrusteth he is a lad of some mettle, and not a dull lump of stuff like yon Jack Arundel. I would, though, he had been something elder than me in the stead of younger. I love not laking with children." Master Roger was beginning to consider himself above the degradation of childhood. Lawrence contented himself with replying that he trusted his Lordship might find matters as should be to his satisfaction. "Where shall it be, Loll, thinkest? I would it might be in the Palace! Aye, and said she not that I should see the King my cousin well-nigh every morrow? I would like that best of all. I could die for him, Lolly!—and shall some day, I cast no doubt." Lawrence’s reply was merely a respectful intimation that he was listening. He was quite as ready as Roger to die for one whom he might love, but not by any means so ready to talk about it. "O Lolly, I could jump up to the moon, ’tis so jolly!" and Roger executed a _pas seul_ outside his bedclothes. "But I say!—I hope they shall ’noy me with no more maids! Why can folk not leave a man be, I would fain wit?" demanded his Lordship, loftily, lying down again, and drawing the satin coverlet over him, by no means tidily. "I would in very sooth I were but a bit bigger! Howbeit, I reckon we shall grow. And then, Loll, thou shalt be mine own especial knight, and shalt bear mine arms, and fight right behind me." "I thank your good Lordship," said Lawrence dutifully, though the prospect of fighting, whether before or behind his master, was not particularly enlivening to his mind. Could Lawrence have chosen his lot, there would have been no fighting in it. "I reckon we shall see," went on Roger, not quite in so lively a tone. "But it shall be right jolly—any how. And I do not—I should not——" Roger was asleep. *CHAPTER VI.* *FAIR AND FICKLE.*