The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Bêthberry]

"And just what might be so wrong with the rag lady giving lessons here, you half pint of mainly beer?" demanded Ruthven of the halfling.

"Why, what lessons might you be sharin' save the drivin' of a hard bargain?" he retorted with passion as he wiped foam from his upper lip and struck a particularly cantankerous pose.

"The only thing hard about my bargains might be the ground with which your posterioria might be coming face to face," rejoined Ruthven.

"Oh, now you're becoming a knockabout," Falco tittered.

"I'd knock you down if you weren't already so wobbly and about to fall down," sallied the old woman, getting into the spirit of the argument.

"Ruthven! Falco! What time do I have for the likes of you two getting into a bragging match, what with brigands on the lose, ill patrons needing care, orphans come begging for jobs, fatherhood become a popular act, and the general run of the Inn?" With these words of admonision, Bethberry turned back to the earnest young lad.

"So Ioreth thought to pass on the labour to me, did she?"

"Aye, she did, but with the sincerest intent and greatest respect. She knows of your ways with errant lasses, for she heard one minstrel tell of you one night in a song, of how you tried to dissuade a lass in her love for him, when she wasn't even aware 'twas love."

Bethberry laughed at this. "What, has that minstrel Hearpwine been fabling us into tales for the merriment of the White City?"

"You know of him, Innkeeper?"

'Aye, we are well acquainted with him here, aren't we lads and lasses?" With that remark Bethberry smiled teasingly at Maercwen, who blushed furiously and flounced off to the kitchen.

"But, let us return to the difficulty at hand, young man. What on earth can a lass expect to learn in four days? If she is indeed that flighty, she shall need a steadying hand to settle her down, for apprenticing to a healer is a long process, and I've hardly the time for it now, with running the Horse."