She did not know her word's work, and laughed again to see me grow yet more grave at Barbara's name.
"The stern mistress is away," she whispered.

"May we not sport?
The door is shut! Why, Simon, you're dull.

In truth you're as dull as the King when his purse is empty." I raised my eyes to hers, she read the thought.

She tossed her head, flinging the brown curls back; her eyes twinkled merrily, and she said in a soft whisper half-smothered in a rising laugh, "But, Simon, the King also is away." I owed nothing to the King and thought nothing of the King.

It was not there I stuck.