Hymn-of-Praise Busy and Mistress Charity Haggett, they are standing side
by side, he looking somewhat shame-faced in the midst of his obvious
joy, and she supremely unconcerned, once more absorbed in the apparently
never-ending adornment of the refreshment table.

"Thou'lt have no cause to regret this, mistress," said Busy
complacently, "we will be married this very autumn, and I have it in my
mind--an it please the Lord--to go up to London and take secret service
under my Lord Protector himself."

"Secret service, Master Busy ... hem ... I mean Hymn-of-Praise, dear ...
secret service? ... What may that be?"

"'Tis a noble business, Charity," he replied, "and one highly commended
by the Lord: the business of tracking the wicked to their lair, of
discovering evil where 'tis hidden in dark places, conspiracies against
my Lord Protector, adherence to the cause of the banished tyrants and
... and ... so forth."

"Sounds like spying to me," she remarked curtly.

"Spying? ... Spying, didst thou say?" he exclaimed indignantly. "Fie on
thee, Charity, for the thought! Secret service under my Lord Protector
'tis called, and a highly lucrative business too, and one for which I
have remarkable aptitude."

"Indeed?"

"Aye! See the manner in which I find things out, mistress. This house
now ... thou wouldst think 'tis but an ordinary house ... eh?"