"Doubtless he smells the cat, which hath her kittens. May I ask you, gentleman, as a favor, not to let the creature be disturbed? She is almost my only companion, and even the love of a dumb beast is some solace, as I sit here alone all day." "Truly, I should think so!" said Kirke. "Have no fear, dame! Your cat shall not be troubled, though I think a dog would be the better companion." The dame smiled. "A dog could not provide for himself as my poor Tabby does, and in poverty such as mine, even the food of a dog is of consequence." "Where have I seen you before, dame?" asked the soldier, abruptly. "Your face, voice, and manner are all familiar to me, and yet I cannot recall the time or place where I have known you." "Yes, you have been under my roof and eaten at my table in other days," replied Dame Sprat. "When you were a young lad, staying with your mother's brother in Devonshire, you and your young cousins used often to come to my house to eat junkets and raspberries with clotted cream. I well remember the fall from the great pear-tree, by which you got that scar on your cheek, and your encounter with my husband's long-horned bull." "Aye, when you came in with your broomstick, and drove the animal away. Truly I had the worst of that encounter, and but for your timely help, had hardly been here to tell the tale. But why did you not make yourself known to me, dame, since you remembered me so well?" "I am but a poor woman now, living upon charity, and you are a great gentleman!" said the dame, with a touch of the gentle pride she sometimes showed. "Things are greatly changed since I was at the head of my own house and you were a young boy, not much above my own rank." The fierce soldier of fortune sighed. "Yes, dame, they are indeed, and not for the better, perhaps, with either of us. However, it is a world of changes, and we must even take it as it comes. But tell me, dame, have you seen any of the escaped rebels lurking here in the waste? It seems a likely place enough to afford them shelter. Sir Edward, suppose we bring out the blood-hound, and see what he can find for us? It would afford us good sport—better than tramping through the moss after wild ducks." "You are indeed changed from the innocent and kind-hearted lad I once knew you, since you can talk so lightly of hunting your fellow-creatures with hounds, like beasts of the chase!" said Dame Sprat, sadly and severely. "Surely enough of blood hath already been shed in this unhappy cause. Remember, Colonel Kirke, that though man and the world change, there is One who changeth not—One who has solemnly and sternly declared that 'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed!' And that 'With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.' To Him you must one day render a strict account, and neither rank nor riches, nor the favor of kings, will weigh one atom with Him, to whom even kings themselves must answer for the deeds done in the body!"