We have hundreds more books for your enjoyment. Read them all!
|
|
Sir Jeoffry stood at the buffet with a flagon of ale in his hand,
taking his stirrup cup. At the sight of a stranger and one attired
in the garb of a chaplain, he scowled surprisedly.
"What's this?" quoth he. "What dost want, Clo? I have no leisure
for a sermon."
Mistress Clorinda went to the buffet and filled a tankard for
herself and carried it back to the table, on the edge of which she
half sat, with one leg bent, one foot resting on the floor.
"Time thou wilt have to take, Dad," she said, with an arch grin,
showing two rows of gleaming pearls. "This gentleman is my Lord
Twemlow's chaplain, whom he sends to exhort you, requesting you to
have the civility to hear him."
"Exhort be damned, and Twemlow be damned too!" cried Sir Jeoffry,
who had a great quarrel with his lordship and hated him bitterly.
"What does the canting fool mean?"
"Sir," faltered the poor message-bearer, "his lordship hath--hath
been concerned--having heard--"
The handsome creature balanced against the table took the tankard
from her lips and laughed.
"Having heard thy daughter rides to field in breeches, and is an
unseemly-behaving wench," she cried, "his lordship sends his
chaplain to deliver a discourse thereon--not choosing to come
himself. Is not that thy errand, reverend sir?"
The chaplain, poor man, turned pale, having caught, as she spoke, a
glimpse of Sir Jeoffry's reddening visage.
|