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And what may you know of gentlemen, Sir Scot? Think you a gentleman is a Jack Presbyter, or a droning member of your kirk committee, strutting it like a crow in the gutter? Gadswounds, boy, when I was your age, and George Villiers lived " "Oh, have done!" broke in the youth impetuously. "Suffer me to leave you, Sir Crispin, to your bottle, your croaking, and your memories."
Rakehelly Galliard is the hero of many a reckless deed, but my judgment is much at fault if this prove not his crowning recklessness and his last one. Gadswounds, sir, are you mad to come hither single-handed to beard the lion in his den?" "Rather the cur in his kennel," sneered Crispin back. "Blood and wounds, Master Joseph, think you to affright me with words?"
"A man who thinks he has a handsome foot," quoth our fashionable Crispin, "is apt to give us more trouble than any lady among our customers. I have noticed this for twenty years." The testimony is consoling to women. And this naturally suggests the question, What is to be the future of masculine costume?
And this the Tavern Knight then set himself to do. Sir Crispin walked from the window by which he had been standing, to the rough bed, and flung himself full length upon it. The only chair that dismal room contained was occupied by Kenneth. Galliard heaved a sigh of physical satisfaction. "Fore George, I knew not I was so tired," he murmured.
And by drawing back a pace he signified his wish to close the door and be quit of them. "We thought," faltered the young officer, "that that perchance you would assist us by " "Assist you!" roared Crispin, with a fine assumption of anger. "Assist you take a man? Sink me, sir, I would have you know I am a soldier, not a tipstaff!"
Crispin brought them to the palace, the prince flew into a rage, beat him severely, and then ordered the leather to be cut into pieces and stewed, and forced the shoemaker to swallow it on the spot—or as much of it as he could get down. These are only a sample of his pranks.
"Father, if that be all that grieves you, I can reassure you. I do not love Kenneth." "You apprehend me amiss," said he tartly. "Do you recall the story of Sir Crispin Galliard's life that you had from Kenneth on the night of Joseph's return?" His voice shook as he put the question. "Why, yes.
The few pence necessary for this purpose might have been obtained, and the poet might have taken to the calling of St. Crispin, but that he showed a great aversion to the trade.
'Fore George," he laughed, "it is the first time water has stood my friend, for the rains have sadly rusted that iron." Without, their sentry was pacing before the door; his steps came nearer, passed, and receded; turned, came nigh again, and again passed on. As once more they grew faint, Crispin seized the bar and renewed his attempt. This time it was easier.
Had Kenneth sat beside him he might have whispered a word of restraint in his eat, but the lad was on the other side of the board. At one moment Crispin fancied that a look of intelligence passed from Joseph to Gregory, and when presently Gregory set himself to ply both him and the boy with wine, his suspicions became certainties, and he grew watchful and wary. Anon Cynthia rose.
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