The dame's prayer was in few words, but it brought back the courage to Winifred's heart and the color to her cheeks. She took the Bible and sat down by the bedside, from which she could watch the approach of the sportsmen. They hesitated for a moment, and then turned toward the door of the hut, which they entered without knocking. Dame Sprat slightly raised herself in bed. "You are welcome to my poor house, with your friend, Sir Edward Peckham!" she said, with, as Winifred thought, the air of a queen. "Can I do aught to serve you? Winifred, set the chair and stool for the gentlemen." "Do not disturb yourself, my good dame," said Sir Edward, kindly; for, though a pompous man in general, he was always gracious and polite, especially to his inferiors in rank. "A drink of fair water is all we require." "The water is none of the best, but such as it is you are heartily welcome," replied Dame Sprat. "Winifred, bring a jug of fresh water, and mix with it some of the ginger cordial you brought me, to take off the earthy taste." "What! My little Puritan again, I protest!" exclaimed Colonel Kirke. "What brings you here, my fairy?" "I came to see and wait upon Dame Sprat," replied Winifred. "And you seem to have performed your office well!" said the colonel. "Your cooking smells very savory," he continued, lifting the cover of the saucepan without ceremony. "Pray, did your mother send this fine fish with all the rest?" "No," replied the dame. "That was given me by a stranger who had been fishing in the stream not far-away. I have more than once received such treats from the sportsmen and fowlers, who now and then call, as you have done, for a drink of water or some directions concerning the way. The fish is at your service, gentlemen, if you please to eat." "No, no, dame, I will not rob you of your supper, but you are lucky in having such a neat handmaiden—a 'neat-handed Phyllis,' as that pestilent old roundhead, John Milton, says. I could find it in my heart to take her away from you. What say you, my fairy, will you go with me to London to see the king and dress in silks and satins?" "No!" replied Winifred, as she poured out the water. "I am but a simple country maid, and I have no desire to be anything else." "The gentleman is but jesting with you, child!" said Sir Edward, not very well pleased with the soldier's tone toward his wife's favorite, since any person or thing in the remotest degree connected with himself became sacred in his eyes. "Colonel Kirke, will it please you to drink?" "Well, here's a health to you and your attendant sprite, dame!" said the colonel. "What makes the dog so uneasy?" One of Sir Edward's dogs had been snuffing about the hut ever since they entered, smelling here and there, and whining eagerly. Winifred's heart sank fathoms deep as she saw him scratching at the door of the shed, and heard the soldier's question. She thought all was indeed lost, but the old woman answered in her usual quiet tone: