her cheeks, hastened to summon her one woman-servant, Colet, to bring
the porringer of milk.

Captain Talbot had only hurried ashore to bring the infant, and show
himself to his wife. He was forced instantly to return to the wharf,
but he promised to come back as soon as he should have taken order
for his men, and for the Mastiff, which had suffered considerably in
the storm, and would need to be refitted.

Colet hastily put a manchet of fresh bread, a pasty, and a stoup of
wine into a basket, and sent it by her husband, Gervas, after their
master; and then eagerly assisted her mistress in coaxing the infant
to swallow food, and in removing the soaked swaddling clothes which
the captain and his crew had not dared to meddle with.

When Captain Talbot returned, as the rays of the setting sun glanced
high on the roofs and chimneys, little Humfrey stood peeping through
the tracery of the balcony, watching for him, and shrieking with joy
at the first glimpse of the sea-bird's feather in his cap. The
spotless home-spun cloth and the trenchers were laid for supper, a
festive capon was prepared by the choicest skill of Mistress Susan,
and the little shipwrecked stranger lay fast asleep in the cradle.

All was well with it now, Mrs. Talbot said. Nothing had ailed it but
cold and hunger, and when it had been fed, warmed, and dressed, it
had fallen sweetly asleep in her arms, appeasing her heartache for
her own little Sue, while Humfrey fully believed that father had
brought his little sister back again.

The child was in truth a girl, apparently three or four months old.