It gives me a brace-up to hear of it." The tall young lady laughed beautifully and got up.
"Come to the Court to-morrow morning at ten, and we will look it over together," she said.

"Good-morning, Buttle." And she went away.
In the taproom of The Clock, when Joe Buttle dropped in for his pot of beer, he found Fox, the saddler, and Tread, the blacksmith, and each of them fell upon the others with something of the same story to tell.

The new young lady from the Court had been to see them, too, and had brought to each her definite little note-book.

Harness was to be repaired and furbished up, the big carriage and the old phaeton were to be put in order, and Master Ughtred's cart was to be given new paint and springs.
"This is what she said," Fox's story ran, "and she said it so straightforward and business-like that the conceitedest man that lived couldn't be upset by it.

'I want to see what you can do,' she says.