"I beg your pardon," said the child. She was but a child, and her brave heart was failing her. Derette was very near tears. "I did not mean any harm. Somebody had given up having a new gown--and she wanted it very much--to let somebody else have the money; and I thought, if I could beg one for her--but I did not mean to be rude. Please let me go home."

"Thou shalt go home, little one," answered the lady; "but wait a moment.

Does any one know the child?"

n.o.body knew her.

"Stephen the Watchdog knows me," said Derette, drawing a long breath.

"He is my cousin. So is...o...b..rt the porter."

The lady put her arm round Derette.

"What sort of a gown wouldst thou have, my child?"

Derette's eyes lighted up. Was she really to succeed after all?

"A nice one, please," she said, simply, making every one smile except Hagena, who was still too angry for amus.e.m.e.nt. "Not smart nor grand, you know, but warm and soft. Something woollen, I suppose, it should be."

The lady addressed herself to Hagena.

"Have I any good woollen robe by the walls?"

When a dress was done with, if the materials were worth using for something else, it was taken to pieces; if not, it was hung up "by the walls," ready to give away when needed.

Hagena had some difficulty in answering properly.

"No, Lady; the last was given to Veka, a fortnight since."

"Then," was the quiet answer, which surprised all present, "it must be one of those I am wearing. Let c.u.mina and Dora bring such as I have."

Derette looked up into the face of her new friend.

"Please, are you the Lady Countess?"

"Well, I suppose I am," replied the Countess with a smile. "Now, little maid, choose which thou wilt."

Seven woollen gowns were displayed before the Countess and Derette, all nearly new--blue, green, scarlet, tawny, crimson, chocolate, and cream-colour. Derette looked up again to the Countess's face.

"Nay, why dost thou look at me? Take thine own choice."

The Countess was curious to see what the child's selection would be.

"I looked to see which you liked best," said Derette, "because I wouldn't like to choose that."

"True courtesy here!" remarked the Countess. "It is nothing to me, my child. Which dost thou like?"

"I like that one," said Derette, touching the crimson, which was a rich, soft, dark shade of the colour, "and I think Agnes would too; but I don't want to take the best, and I am not sure which it is."

"Fold it up," said the Countess to c.u.mina, with a smile to Derette; "let it be well lapped in a kerchief; and bid Wandregisil go to the Osney Gate, so that Stephen can take the child home."

The parcel was folded up, the Countess's hand kissed with heartfelt thanks, and the delighted Derette, under the care of c.u.mina, returned to the Osney Gate with her load.

"Well, you are a child!" exclaimed Stephen. "So c.u.mina has really found you a gown? I thought she would, if she had one to give away."

"No," said Derette, "it is the Countess's gown."

"And who on earth gave you a gown of the Lady's?"

"Her own self!--and, Stephen, it is of her own wearing; she hadn't done with it; but she gave it me, and she was so nice!--so much nicer than all the others except c.u.mina."

"Well, if ever I did!" gasped Stephen. "Derette, you are a terrible child! I never saw your like."

"I don't know what I've done that's terrible," replied the child. "I'm sure Agnes won't think it terrible to have that pretty gown to wear.

What is terrible about it, Stephen?"

They had left the Castle a few yards behind, were over the drawbridge, and winding down the narrow descent, when a sharp call of "Ste-phen!"

brought them to a standstill.

"Oh dear, that's Cousin Anania!" exclaimed Derette. "Let me run on, Stephen, and you go back and see what she wants."

"Nay, I must not do that, child. The Lady sent orders that I was to see you home. You'll have to go back with me."

"But she'll worry so! She'll want to know all about the gown, and then she'll want it undone, and I'm sure she'll mess it up--and c.u.mina folded it so smooth and nice:" urged Derette in a distressed tone.

"We won't let her," answered Stephen, quietly, as they came to the entrance gate. "Well, what's up, Anania?"

"What's Derette doing here? Who came with her? Where are you going?-- and what's in that fardel?"

"Oh, is that all you're after? I'll answer those questions when I come back. I've got to take Derette home just now."

"You'll answer them before you go an inch further, if you please. That child's always in some mischief, and you aid and abet her a deal too often."

"But I don't please. I am under orders, Anania, and I can't stop now."

"At least you'll tell me what's in the fardel!" cried Anania, as Stephen turned to go on his way without loosing his hold of the parcel.

"A gown which the Lady has given to Derette," said Stephen mischievously, "and she sent commands that I was to escort her home with it."

"A gown!--the Lady!--Derette!" screamed Anania. "Not one of her own?-- why on earth should she give Derette a gown?"

"That's the Lady's business, not mine."

"Yes, one of her own," said Derette proudly.

"But what on earth for? She hasn't given me a gown, and I am sure I want it more than that child--and deserve it, too."

"Perhaps you haven't asked her," suggested Derette, trotting after Stephen, who was already half-way across the bridge.

"Asked her! I should hope not, indeed--I know my place, if you don't.

You never mean to say you asked her?"