"Lucy?" said Rose; "she will come in a moment. She is going to bring
in the dish you especially ordered, and which Deborah wonders at."
"Good, faithful Deborah!" said Edmund. "Did she never find a second
love?"
"Oh no, never," said Eleanor. "She says she has seen enough of men
in her time."
"She is grown sharper than ever," said Walter, "now she is Mistress
Housekeeper Deborah; I shall pity the poor maidens under her."
"She will always be kind in the main," rejoined Rose.
"And did you ever hear what became of that precious sweetheart of
hers?" asked Edmund.
"Hanged for sheep stealing," replied Walter, "according to the report
of Sylvester Enderby. But hush, for enter--"
There entered Lucy, smiling and blushing, her dark hair decorated
with the spray of oak, and her hands supporting a great pewter dish,
in which stood a noble pie, of pale-brown, well-baked crust,
garnished with many a pair of little claws, showing what were the
contents. She set it down in the middle of the table, just opposite
to Walter. The grace was said, the supper began, and great was the
merriment when Walter, raising a whole pigeon on his fork, begged to
know if Rose had appetite enough for it, and if she still possessed
the spirit of a wolf. "And," said he, as they finished, "now Rose
will never gainsay me more when I sing -
"For forty years our Royal throne
Has been his father's and his own,
Nor is there anyone but he
With right can there a sharer be.
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