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"Madge has not been made what she is by paragons," Mr. Muir remarked, dryly. "She made herself. They only helped her, and couldn't have helped a silly woman." "It's time you were jealous, Mary," said Graydon, laughing. "Mary isn't a silly woman. I should hope that no Muir would marry one." "I see no prospect of it," was the rather cold reply.
Madge and I will owe him our means of livelihood, enough for cottagers, until I carve my way. His feelings are much more independent of his rank than those of most noblemen. He will repeat your kind words to Madge and me; I am sure of it. He has had heavy burdens; he is young, hardly formed yet. He needs a helper; I mean, one allied to him. You forgive me?
You didn't know me when I stood before ye. My! But you don't look very chipper yet! I'll make ye a cup of hot tea." Madge accepted the refreshment gratefully. It was rather bitter and black but at least it was hot and comforting. Then she went and sought the little bed in the dim hall-room, whose frosted panes let in a yellow and scanty light.
"I need no help, good mother," said Margery, as she sprang lightly from her seat, while Richard hurried into the house to find Sir Geoffrey. "Sir Geoffrey would send Richard Pynson to Marston," said Dame Lovell, as she preceded Margery into the hall. "And how liked you Master Sastre, Madge?" "Very greatly, good mother; never heard I before a homily so brave."
One dear, good soul, Mr. Travers Madge, when he heard that I was in jail, started at once for Mossley, a distance of ten or eleven miles, to see Mr. Robinson, a faithful friend, to request him to come to my help. It was two o'clock in the morning when, weary and full of anxiety, he knocked at Mr. Robinson's door. Mr.
Madge, whose slumbers, like those of most who labour under mental malady, had been short, and were easily broken, now made herself heard from her place of repose. "Indeed, mother, that's a great lie, for I did nae sic thing." "Hush, thou hellicat devil," said her mother "By Heaven! the other wench will be waking too."
The attic of "Forest House" was worth a longer journey than Madge had to make. It was built of solid cedar wood, with beams a foot thick over head, and put together with great cedar pegs. The attic was a long, low-ceilinged room, dark and fragrant with the odor of the cedar. It was lit by four big, old-fashioned dormer windows in the front and four in the rear.
So soon as she arrived at this spot, Madge Wildfire, joining her hands above her head with a loud scream that resembled laughter, flung herself all at once upon the spot, and remained lying there motionless.
Then she would reply with perfect courtesy, but in some such ambiguous way. It soon became evident to Graydon that the two girls were hostile, and this both amused and vexed him. He was beginning to learn that Madge was the more skilful opponent. She was never aggressive, yet seemed clad in polished armor when attacked, and her quick replies flashed back under the light of her smile.
Prudy could not have counted the times; and you may be sure aunt Madge never would. Then the stories, both sensible and silly, which Prudy teased for, and always got! Aunt Madge poured them forth like water into the sieve of Prudy's mind, which could not hold stories any better than secrets. No matter how many she told, Prudy insisted that she wanted "one more," and the "same one over again."
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