For, indeed, I had not worked quite so hard as in his haste my father had supposed from my appearance.
"Go within," he said; "don quickly your saint's-day dress, and betake yourself down to the house of Master Gerard von Sturm, the city chamberlain, and tell him all that he asks of you--readily and truly." "But, father," said I, "suppose he asks of me that which might condemn one who has trusted me, what am I to say ?" "Tut, boy," said my father, impatiently, "you mean young Michael Texel.
Fear not for him.

He was the first to inform.

He was at Master von Sturm's by eight this morning, elbowing half a dozen others, all burning and shining lights of the famous Society of the White Wolf.

You are the hero of the day down there, it seems." "And lo! here I am flouted by a stripling girl, and set to carry water by the hour in the broiling sun!" I said within myself.

I possessed, however, though without doubt a manifest hero, far too much of the unheroic quality of discretion to say this aloud to my father.
"I thank you, sir," I said, respectfully.