"Want not to hear it!" shouted Sir Jeoffry. "Dost think I'll stand his
impudence? Not I!"

"What was your message?" demanded the young lady of the chaplain. "You
cannot return without delivering it. Tell it to me. _I_ choose it shall
be told."

The chaplain clutched and fumbled with his hat, pale, and dropping his
eyes upon the floor, for very fear.

"Pluck up thy courage, man," said Clorinda. "I will uphold thee. The
message?"

"Your pardon, Madam--'twas this," the chaplain faltered. "My lord
commanded me to warn your honoured father--that if he did not beg you to
leave off wearing--wearing--"

"Breeches," said Mistress Clorinda, slapping her knee.

The chaplain blushed with modesty, though he was a man of sallow
countenance.

"No gentleman," he went on, going more lamely at each
word--"notwithstanding your great beauty--no gentleman--"

"Would marry me?" the young lady ended for him, with merciful
good-humour.

"For if you--if a young lady be permitted to bear herself in such a
manner as will cause her to be held lightly, she can make no match that