'That maid will make our lad betray himself ere another hour is over
their heads!'

'Doth she do it wittingly?' asked the shepherd gravely.

'Nay, 'tis no guile, but each child sees that the other is of gentle
blood, and women's wits be sharp and prying, and the maid will never
rest till she has wormed out who he is.'

'He promised me never to say, nor doth he know.'

'Thee! Much do the hests of an old hogherd weigh against the wiles
of a young maid!'

'Lord Hal is a lad of his word. Peace with thy lords and ladies,
woman, thou'lt have the archers after him at once.'

'She makes no secret of being of gentle blood--a St. John of Bletso.'

'A pestilent White Rose lot! We shall have them on the scent ere
many days are over our head! An unlucky chance this same snow, or I
should have had the wench off to Greystone ere they could exchange a
word.'

'Thou wouldst have been caught in the storm. Ill for the maid to
have fallen into a drift!'

'Well for the lad if she never came out of it!' muttered the gruff
old shepherd. 'Then were her tongue stilled, and those of the
clacking wenches at York--Yorkists every one of them.'