It was my father who answered him, yet barely had he opened his mouth when the stranger clapped him on the shoulder: "By all the powers of darkness! You, S----" "Hold, man!" replied my father in a tone that implied no denial. Then, in an undertone, I heard him say: "I am now but Owen Wentworth, gentleman yeoman, at your service." "I am still Ralph Slingsby, though, thanks to my General Monk, cornet of horse no longer, but captain in his favourite regiment. Let me think. ’Tis but thrice that I have seen thee since we parted at Holwick, you to join the king at Nottingham, I to enrol under my Lord Essex. First, at Edgehill, when I, a mere stripling, lay under the hoofs of Rupert’s horse. Secondly, at Cropredy Bridge, when I did turn aside the pike that would have let your soul out of the keeping of your body. Lastly, when at the trial of----" "Ssh! I would have you remember that the rising generation hath long ears." My father spoke truly, for though the stranger had uttered his lengthy speech but in an undertone, yet I, with the curiosity of youth, did not fail to hear, much to my mystification. Knowing also that the remark about "the rising generation" was applied to me, I must needs raise my hands to my ears to feel if they were long, much to Ralph Slingsby’s amusement. "So this is your son, Master Wentworth? A fitting chip of the old block! What wouldst thou be, lad; a fighting man, like thy sire?" "Ay," I replied. "But I would love to go to sea, and become famous like Admiral Blake, e’en though he were a Roundhead!" "What knowest thou of Blake?" "Henry Martin hath told me tales of his gallant deeds, and besides, he hath shown me his medal of bronze, inscribed: ’For eminent service in saving ye _Triumph_, fired in fight with ye Dutch’. That was the sea fight in which Martin lost his leg." "Ah, Master Wentworth, that’s the spirit I like! The time hath come when Englishmen cease from flying at each other’s throats. Host, my score!" Then, shaking my father by the hand, and patting me kindly on the head, he strode towards the door; then, turning, he addressed the company: "Gentlemen, I beg you take heed that yesternight a messenger was sent to Holland to invite His Majesty King Charles II to return to his throne. I bear orders to the fleet at Portsmouth that they all, with the exception of the _Naseby_, the name of which giveth offence to His Majesty, proceed to the Downs, there to welcome our sovereign lord. God save the King!" While the silence that prevailed in the room, following on this startling announcement, still remained, I could hear the thud of horse’s hoofs as Ralph Slingsby resumed his momentous journey towards Petersfield.