"Well, _Mother_, I reckon it was the same that I saw leaning against a
tree at the other side of the isle, which spake to me and asked me what
the isle was called, and who Saint _Hubert_ were. He told me, the same
as _Edith_, that he had known you aforetime."
"Didst get a poem unto thy sweet eyes, _Milly_?" saith _Edith_,
laughing.
"Nay," said I, "mine eyes be not so sweet as thine."
"Did he ask at thee if _Father_ were at home?"
"Ay, he asked that."
Herein told I no falsehood, for that day he said not a word touching
mine eyes.
Then Cousin _Bess_ looks up. Cousin _Bess_ was by, but not Aunt
_Joyce_.
"What manner of man, my lasses?" saith she.