"You'll catch a sunstroke," said Ann the cook. "I hope you're not
beginning to forget how to take care of yourself."

"Well, I hope so too," Master Simon answered; but he did not budge.

On the morning of the third day, however, he saw that which made him
step indoors and mount to the attic under the cote. Having opened
with much caution a trap-door in the roof, he slipped an arm out and
captured a carrier pigeon.

The bird carried a note folded small and bound under its wing with a
thread of silk. Master Simon opened the note and read:

If you loves me as I loves you,
No knife can cut our loves in two.

He had prepared himself for a hearty chuckle; but he broke out with a
profuse perspiration instead. "Oh, this is hustling a man!" he
ingeminated, staring round the empty attic like a rabbit seeking a
convenient hole. "Not three weeks buried!" he added, with another
groan, and began to loosen his neck-cloth.

While thus engaged, he heard a flutter above the trap-door, and a
second pigeon alighted, with a second note, also bound with a silken
thread.

"Lor-a-mercy!" gasped Master Simon.

But the second note was written in a different hand, and ran as
follows: