"Because I was making some such knight for myself," replied the other.
"See! He was to have been tall, of good figure, wearing a wide hat and
plume withal. But lest I spoil him, my knight--now a plague take me
indeed if I do not ruin him complete!" So saying, she drew with vengeful
fingers at the intricately woven silks until she had indeed undone all
that had gone before.

"Nay, nay! Mary Connynge! Do not so!" replied Lady Catharine in
expostulation. "The poor knight, how could he help himself? Why, as for
mine, though I find him not all I could wish, I'll e'en be patient as I
may, and seek if I may not mend him. These knights, you know, are most
difficult. 'Tis hard to make them perfect."

Mary Connynge sat with her hands in her lap, looking idly out of the
window and scarce heeding the despoiled fabric which lay on her lap.
"Come, confess, Lady Kitty," said she at length, turning toward her
friend. "Wert not trying to copy a knight of a hedge-row after all? Did
not a certain tall young knight, with eyes of blue, or gray, or the
like, give pattern for your sampler while you were broidering to-day?"

"Fie! For shame!" again replied Lady Catharine, flushing none the less.
"Rather ask, does not such a thought come over thine own broidering? But
as to the hedge-row, surely the gentleman explained it all proper
enough; and I am sure--yes, I am very sure--that my brother Charles had
quite approved of my giving the injured young man the lift in the
coach--"

"Provided that your Brother Charles had ever heard of such a thing!"

"Well, of that, to be sure, why trouble my brother over such a trifle,