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Sir Percevall, well aware that the Queen's fury, unless checked, would produce his and his client's ruin, determined to divert this flood of emotion into a new channel. With the insight of genius, the fat knight realized that only a woman's curiosity could avert a queen's rage, and with what speed he could he stumbled backward to where Droop had left his exhibits.
On more thought, 'twere better you had a guide. I know a worthy gentleman one of the Queen's harbingers. Take you this letter to him, for which purpose I will e'en leave it unsealed that he may read it. He will conduct you to mine uncle, for he hath free access to the court." "What's his name?" "Sir Percevall Hart.
He had no idea what sack was, but he felt that in all probability it was a mild beverage, or no one would order a quart at once. "And this same letter, now," Sir Percevall began. "To warn you truly, friend, this matter of monopolies hath something of an ill savor in the public mind.
The obedience to this summons was prompt and willing, and Rebecca turned again to observe those who came with the mysterious bicycle. "Land o' sunshine!" she exclaimed, "did ye ever see sech a fat man as that! Do any of you girls know who 'tis?" "'Tis Sir Percevall Hart, harbinger to the Queen, I ween," Clarissa replied. "Gracious!" said Rebecca, anxiously.
Drawer!" he shouted, as soon as they were comfortably disposed face to face. "Anon, sir, anon!" came the familiar reply, and the drawer, who had just served two new guests at the long table, now hurried over to the nook behind the casks. "A quart of sack, villain!" said Sir Percevall. "And for you, sir?" said the drawer, turning to Droop. "Yes, yea, bring me the same."
On reaching the London side, he stood awhile in the ill-smelling street near the fish markets gazing about him in quest of someone from whom he might ask his way. "Let's see!" he mused. "Bacon said Sir Percevall Hart, Boar's Head Tavern, Eastcheap. First thing to find is Eastcheap, I guess. Hullo there, forsooth!" he cried, addressing a baker's boy who was shuffling by with his basket on his head.
Sir Percevall lost his balance, and, feeling himself toppling, threw his hands out forward with a cry and fell flat on his face. Elizabeth was at this moment addressing a few gracious words to a white-haired courtier, who kneeled among those gathered on the right of her line of progress.
'Twill go hard but Sir Percevall shall win his suit and you, Master Droop, your monopolies. Mark me now mark me well!" So saying, the fat knight advanced and joined one of the long lines of courtiers already forming a hedge on each side of the direct way which the Queen was to traverse.
Shortly after the commencement of these preparations, Droop and his guide appeared among other petitioners and other lookers-on around the doorways. Copernicus carried his phonographic apparatus, but the bicycle had been left in the court-yard in the care of a man-at-arms. "Jiminy!" said Droop, looking curiously about him, "ain't this A No. 1, though! Et must be fun to be a queen, eh, Percevall?"
It's a patent on a phonograph, I b'lieve." "Know you aught of this, my lord?" said Elizabeth, turning to Burleigh. "Why, yes, your Majesty. I have to-day received from Sir Percevall Hart a letter written by my nephew, Francis Bacon " "Bacon! What! Ay methinks we know somewhat of this same Francis," said the Queen, grimly. "A member of Parliament, is he not?"
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