“They will be as well pleased at my absence as with my company,” I said, “or better.”
“And why?”
“Because two’s company and three’s none, and Ben and Lucy are very fond of each other’s company.”
“But surely there must be something you can be doing,” she said. “A man should never be idle.”
“I am well enough here watching you,” I answered.
“If you watch me, I shall be sure to let the china fall, and then your mother will be sorry she entrusted it to my hands. Now, see, there is a young gentleman riding into the yard; you must go out and see him.”
“Nay,” said I, glancing out of the window, “ ’tis only Jack Drumbleforth, our parson’s son. He will find his way in here readily enough without my meeting him.”
And presently, indeed, we saw Jack striding across the fold in the direction of the kitchen-door, which he threw open a minute later with a cheery salutation. I can yet see his start of surprise and the astonished look on his face when he found me leaning against the wall talking to a beautiful young lady whom he had never seen before.
“Come in, Jack,” said I. “Let me present thee to an old friend of mine, Mistress Rose Lisle. Mistress Rose, this gentleman is my old schoolmate, Master John Drumbleforth.”
Then I stood smiling upon them while Jack made his best bow and Rose curtsied to him in the finest fashion.
“Mistress Rose,” said Jack, still astonished of face, “I am your most humble servant. What Will here says of me is indeed true, for we were lads together. But he did never tell me of his old friend, Mistress Rose Lisle.”
“Master Dale is jesting with you, sir,” said Rose. “He hath nothing better to do this fine morning, when we are all so busy.”
“Nay,” said I, “ ’tis true enough. Did I never tell thee, Jack, of how I fell from the elm in Went Vale yonder and was ministered to by an angel?”
“But that is many years ago,” said Rose, “and the angel was a little girl in a red hood.”
“But, nevertheless, it was Mistress Rose Lisle. So that I was right in saying ‘an old friend,’ eh, Jack?”
“I am not sorry thou didst fall out of the elm-tree, Will,” said Jack, “if it made Mistress Rose friend of thine. I have had many a tumble myself, but I never fell in Fortune’s way. However, there may be a chance Will, what dost say if I go to the wars?”
“To the wars? Man, thou art to be a parson.”
“Time enough for that when we have done with fighting. For fighting there will be erelong, so sure as my name is Jack Drumbleforth.”
“Have you heard some fresh news, sir?” asked Rose.
“Nay, mistress, nothing very fresh, save that it is said the King and Commons have come to an open breach at last, and that blood will certainly be shed. Hah!” said Jack, taking down and looking lovingly at my ancient broadsword, “I am afraid there is more of the swashbuckler about me than the parson. I did ever love a fight, Will, as you know. Well, there will be heads broken.”
“But which side wilt thou fight for, Jack?”
But at that he shook his head. It was a question which puzzled many men at that time.
“Nay, lad, that I cannot answer yet awhile. I am for the monarchy, of course, for there is warrant for that. Yet I would hear something of the other side of the question before I take sword in hand. Mark thee, Will, there will be many a man in England take sides in this quarrel who knows nothing of what he is fighting for. It will be enough for such that they fight.”
Which saying was true enough as events proved. But we had no time to discuss it then, for my mother entered the kitchen, and bade us both begone for idlers, at which Rose laughed, and we perforce departed into the fold.
“Zounds, Will!” said Jack, when we were clear of the house, “it is not like thee to have kept the fame of Mistress Rose Lisle to thyself. Ah! thou hast a keen eye for beauty, my old friend Will. Well, I wish thee good luck. I will dance at thy wedding, an I be not killed first.”
“Why, man,” said I, “have I not told thee I never saw Mistress Rose yonder but once, when she was a little maid that high, and I a great boy with a thick head? It is soon to talk of weddings.”
“May be,” said he, “but if thou art not falling in love with her, call me a Dutchman. I know the signs, Will. What! I was in love myself at Oxford with Gillian, the pastrycook’s daughter. Poor Gillian—the lightest foot, I think, that ever trod a measure, and could make you the sweetest tarts I ever set tooth in! Well, I am like to be happy with ye here at Dale’s Field, for there are Ben and Lucy looking unutterable things at each other in the barn, and thou wilt be sighing like a furnace erelong. As for me, I shall never marry, Will. An I survive the wars I will take orders and live in some sweet spot where I can compose madrigals and sonnets to Phyllis. I flatter me that I have as pretty a taste in that line as man need have.”
“Thou seemest resolved that there shall be some fighting, Jack.”
“Why, yes. For, dost thou not see, the land is now in such a state that heads must be broken ere ever things will heal? ’Tis a sad business, but war there must be.”
Then we went to our respective duties, Jack to superintend certain arrangements which he had taken upon himself, and I to ride round the farm on
