him, when she called for ale, and drank it, and did good trencher duty,
making him the while roar with laughter at her impudent child-talk.

"Never have I so split my sides since I was twenty," he said. "It makes
me young again to roar so. She shall not leave my sight, since by chance
I have found her. 'Tis too good a joke to lose, when times are dull, as
they get to be as a man's years go on."

He sent for her woman and laid strange new commands on her.

"Where hath she hitherto been kept?" he asked.

"In the west wing, where are the nurseries, and where Mistress Wimpole
abides with Mistress Barbara and Mistress Anne," the woman answered, with
a frightened curtsey.

"Henceforth she shall live in this part of the house where I do," he
said. "Make ready the chambers that were my lady's, and prepare to stay
there with her."

From that hour the child's fate was sealed. He made himself her
playfellow, and romped with and indulged her until she became fonder of
him than of any groom or stable-boy she had been companions with before.
But, indeed, she had never been given to bestowing much affection on
those around her, seeming to feel herself too high a personage to show
softness. The ones she showed most favour to were those who served her
best; and even to them it was always _favour_ she showed, not tenderness.
Certain dogs and horses she was fond of, Rake coming nearest to her
heart, and the place her father won in her affections was somewhat like
to Rake's. She made him her servant and tyrannised over him, but at the