Sally, rising to her feet and fastening the brooch for Mistress Williams.
Mistress Williams fixed puzzled eyes upon her face. "Horses he let ye have?" she repeated.
"Aye, the day o' that battle at Newark," nodded Sally.
"Oh, of course!" Mistress Williams stood silent a moment, a shade crossing her face. "Sally," she said in a low tone. The girl turned at the anxiety in her voice. "Sally, think ye—think ye there be—anyone planning to bid against us?"
Sally shook a decided head. "Nay," she said gently, "ye ha' been too brave all these weeks, dear mistress, to worry at this late hour!"
The other closed her eyes wearily. "I know," she said, in a smothered voice, "I know—I ha' been brave on the outside! I have tried to show my confidence i' the God o' Right by not fretting. But, suppose—oh, suppose, mayhap, some unknown enemy be present! What defense ha' I against his bidding? Why, he might ruin me! And then shall I be cast out, penniless." She fixed burning, restless eyes upon Sally. "Ye do not know how horrible," she continued, "how awful it be to be dependent upon relatives!"
Sally backed away suddenly. "Say ye that to me?" she answered, with a slight bitter laugh. "To me, who have known naught but dependence! And that not upon relatives, who at least have the same
