What make ye?" Dick inquired.

I pray for her spirit," answered the other, with a somewhat troubled

voice.

For a witch's spirit?" Dick cried. "But pray for her, an ye list; she

was the best wench in Europe, was this Joan of Arc. Old Appleyard the

archer ran from her, he said, as if she had been Mahoun. Nay, she was a

brave wench."

Well, but, good Master Richard," resumed Matcham, "an ye like maids so

little, y' are no true natural man; for God made them twain by intention,

and brought true love into the world, to be man's hope and woman's

comfort."

"Faugh!" said Dick. "Y' are a milk-sopping baby, so to harp on women.

An ye think I be no true man, get down upon the path, and whether at

fists, back-sword, or bow and arrow, I will prove my manhood on your

body."

"Nay, I am no fighter," said Matcham, eagerly. "I mean no tittle of

offence. I meant but pleasantry. And if I talk of women, it is because

I heard ye were to marry."

"I to marry!" Dick exclaimed. "Well, it is the first I hear of it. And

with whom was I to marry?"

The Black Arrow