The little gentlewoman looked up with her soft pretty smile. "How mysterious
you are, you two!" she whispered, as she swept the mass of rosy bloom to the
floor to make room for her friend. "What with Teboen always seething
ill-smelling herbs and-- Tata, I pray you to tell who has gifted you with such
a monster?"
Waving the ring where the light might catch the serpents' eyes, Randalin
pursed her lips with so much mystery that her friend was tempted to catch the
hand and hold it prisoner while she examined the ornament. After one look,
however, she let it fall with an expression of awe upon her dimpled face.
"The ring Canute gave Elfgiva--that he won from the giant Rothgar? Heaven
forbid that I should press upon her secrets! My ears tingle yet from the cuff
I got only for looking at yonder dirty scroll. Yet how long is it since you
were taken into their councils, Tata? Yesterday you were no better able than I
to say how things were with her."
"How long?" Randalin repeated dreamily. Her gaze had gone back again to the
rain, falling so softly that every pool in the sodden paths seemed to be full
of lazily winking eyes. "Oh, there are many good chances that he will be here
soon now. He is seldom later than the third hour after noon."
After a bewildered gasp, Dearwyn stifled a burst of laughter in her garlands.
"Oh, Tata, come to earth!" she admonished.
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