"It is all very well to grin," he said, straightening his face
suddenly to a blankness; "but what I have to say concerns a mighty
serious matter."

"Well, then, get it done with," I answered, trying not to smile yet
more.

"I don't rightly know how to begin," he said in a hesitating kind
of way. "Words are as hard to manage as a drove of forest swine,
and I am a bad hand at talking. Can you not tell what I have to
say?"

"Not in the least," I answered.

It flashed across me that he might have found out who I was,
however, and wanted to speak of the old trouble.

"Well," he said at last, growing yet redder, "the Lady Elfrida is
angry that her name has been coupled with yours pretty much
lately."

He stopped with a long breath, and I knew what he was driving at.

"She has told me as much herself already," I said solemnly.

He heaved a sigh of relief.

"But she did not tell me that," he said in a puzzled sort of way.
"Well, it must not go on, or--or else, that is, I shall have to see