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shadow moved across the table. Violet fell immediately back into character.
    “Get rid of that sullen face, boy,” she snapped, “or I shall have you take your fare in the kitchen with the lackeys there! Have you no appreciation for my generosity?” As she spoke, Violet seemed quite annoyed and very much in charge in a mistress-servant relationship.
    Gord bit back his words and obeyed her, for as displeased as he was about their relative meals and her imperious manner, he understood that she was now up to something.
    “Pardon, Good Lady, but I noted your courage in allowing a serving boy to sup with you. May I be so bold as to suggest that you do so for lack of a proper gentleman escort, and to, ahem, offer my company?” With that he made a courtly bow and flourish, adding, “The Honorable Master Ralph, Elder of Seven Mile Mill, at your service.”
    Somehow, Violet managed to blush, lower her eyes, smile prettily, and stammer all at once. “Well, sir, or Honorable Master, I should say, I am at a disadvantage….”
    “Pardon, m’lady, I shall take my leave then,” said Ralph.
    Gord was quite pleased with that turn of events, but before the fellow could turn away Violet spoke quickly:
    “Oh, nay! Good Master, I am most grateful for your kindness and courtesy. I crave your pardon if you felt otherwise. It is just that a proper lady shouldn’t converse with strangers, yet this knave is indeed unfitting company for one of breeding such as yourself….”
    “Then perhaps our host will introduce us formally, I shall serve your Ladyship, and the boy can be sent to keep company with the scullions-he’d be more comfortable there, certainly. Why, look at him now-the picture of one ill at ease with superiors!”
    Gord was indeed feeling out of place, and angry too, but there was neither word nor deed for him. He sat quietly as the gentleman gestured toward the ostler, who scurried over and performed his role in the ritual:
    “Good sir, may I introduce Lady… aah… Penora” (after being informed by Violet) “…of… Dyvers,” (again, filled in by the fair lady) “and to you, my lady, may I have the pleasure of introducing…” Gord found all of this to be quite sickening, all the more so because Violet seemed to be really enjoying herself. But when the amenities were over, that was the end of it for Gord. With no further ado, the proprietor put him in the charge of a bustling wench who, in turn, took him to the kitchen. There he finished his beer and “raw goo” and slumped glumly, wondering what to do now.
    The answer soon presented itself, for several of the scullions and stableboys were gathered near the rear door rolling knucklebones. Well paid they must be, for each had a scattering of iron drabs, brass bits, and bronze zees before him. The bronze coins surprised Gord: These were stakes worth his while! Forgetting about the handsome gallant and Violet for the moment, he moved toward the game.
    Shuffling his feet and looking as stupid as he could, Gord asked what the boys were doing. Grinning, the leader asked if the inquirer had any money. If so, perhaps they’d be kind enough to teach him a wonderful new game-and give him a chance to win a fortune!
    Gord bit at it perfectly, and soon he was being called by name while taking his turn at tossing the yellowish cubes. He lost more often than he won, but the proceeds he gleaned from his light-fingered work far outpaced the coins he gave up. As the game progressed, Gord worked at fumbling with coins so as to slip many of the growing number of zees into his pocket-away from the gaze of those being fleeced out of their wealth. The disappearance of the more valuable coinage was becoming apparent, and one of the stable boys started to ask a question about this, when a shriek came from the common room. Everyone from the kitchen rushed out to see what had happened. Gord joined the throng, but not before he managed to scoop up a good handful of the remaining coins. In