"Now a plague take all created things, Lady Kitty!" cried Mary Connynge,
petulantly flinging down a silken pattern over which she had pretended
to be engaged. "There are devils in the skeins to-day. I'll try no more
with't."

"Fie! For shame, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine Knollys,
reprovingly. "So far from better temperance of speech, didst ever hear
of the virtue of perseverance? Now, for my own part--"

"And what, for your own part? Have I no eyes to see that thou'rt
puttering over the same corner this last half hour? What is it thou art
making to-day?"

The Lady Catharine paused for a moment and held her embroidery frame
away from her at arm's length, looking at it with brow puckering into a
perplexed frown.

"I was working a knight," said she. "A tall one--"

"Yes, a tall one, with yellow hair, I warrant."

"Why, so it was. I was but seeking floss of the right hue, and found it
difficult."

"And with blue eyes?"

"True; or perhaps gray. I could not state which. I had naught in my box
would serve to suit me for the eyes. But how know you this, Mary
Connynge?" asked the Lady Catharine.