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'We must hide here a little while,' said my rescuer. 'Perhaps our pursuers will not come to this side of the trees.'

'I am afraid they will,' returned I, 'if they saw us entering the wood.'

'Then we must hide,' said he. 'Madam, can you get into the cart?'

'Easily,' I answered. 'My name,' I added shyly, for it was awkward for us not to know each other's names, 'is Margaret Brown.'

'Mistress Margaret Brown,' said he, pronouncing the words so beautifully that it seemed to me my cognomen had never sounded half so well before. Then he added, 'And mine is Hubert Blair.'

'Sir Hubert Blair?' said I thoughtfully, thinking what a very nice name it was and how well it seemed to suit the man.

'Yes,' answered he with a smile. 'But now, Mistress Brown, please to get into the cart and lie down. Then I will cover you with the cut grass which half fills it.'

'Will you hide yourself too?'

'Aye, aye.'

He assisted me into the cart and piled the grass over me, even putting a thin layer of it over my head. Then, perceiving a heap of grass in the corner of the shed, and, thinking he could conceal himself more quickly in it, he told me that he was going to do so, beseeching me, whatever happened, to make no sound, but to lie still where I was hidden.