CHAPTER II: HIGH TREASON


"Whate'er it be that is within his reach,
The filching trick he doth his fingers teach."

Robin Badfellow.

There was often a considerable distance between children and their
parents in the seventeenth century, but Anne Woodford, as the only
child of her widowed mother, was as solace, comfort, and companion;
and on her pillow in early morning the child poured forth in grave
earnest the entire story of the changeling, asking whether he could
not be "taken to good Dr. Ken, or the Dean, or the Bishop to be ex--
ex--what is it, mother? Not whipped with nettles. Oh no! nor burnt
with red hot pokers, but have holy words said so that the right one
may come back."

"My dear child, did you really believe that old nurse's tale?"

"O madam, she _knew_ it. The other old woman saw it! I always
thought fairies and elves were only in tales, but Lucy's nurse knows
it is true. And _he_ is not a bit like other lads, mamma dear. He
is lean and small, and his eyes are of different colours, look two
ways at once, and his mouth goes awry when he speaks, and he laughs
just like--like a fiend. Lucy and I call him Riquet a la Houppe,
because he is just like the picture in Mademoiselle's book, with a