“But he was only halfway through the basin of porridge with black treacle on it, which Pinhorn had brought for his breakfast, when she returned to say, "Missis Gourd asks if you'll be so good as to step along to the Oak Chamber, Mester Lucas. Seemingly, she's having a bit of trouble making herself understood wi' the little lass." "Why doesn't she get Mr. Oakapple?" Lucas rather peevishly inquired, shoveling down his last three spoonfuls. "Mr. Oakapple's not to hand; he's with Sir Randolph, recko...n." When Lucas arrived at the Oak Chamber, he saw that last night's scene of confusion had not greatly altered. The traveling gear had been tidied away, but the room was still littered with immense quantities of small garments—muslin chemises, petticoats, fichus, heaven knew what; the place looked as if a hurricane or snowstorm had blown through a forest of handkerchief trees. In the midst of this chaos, the small Anna-Marie sat like a white double hollyhock, in two petticoats and a cambric jacket, with a sulky, rebellious expression on her wan face and her mouth set in a mutinous line.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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