"Well, get thee in," replied Barecolt, "and leave me to deal with him. The best thing for thee to do is to hold thy tongue, for if thou once openest thy mouth we shall see some profane saint or other popping out, and marking thee for a malignant in a minute." After remaining for some ten minutes more at the door, in slow and solemn converse with the host, Barecolt stalked into the house, and found Arrah Neil sitting with her beautiful head leaning on her fair hand, and her elbow resting on a table very respectably covered with provisions. "Now let us to our meat," said Barecolt, "for we must soon be on our way again." Falgate was instantly settling himself upon a stool to fall to, without further ceremony; but the captain gave him a grave admonishing look, and standing before the table with his clasped hands resting on his stomach, and the two thumbs elevated towards his chin, began a grace which had well nigh exhausted the patience of Falgate before it was done, but which greatly edified the master of the house. After this was concluded, they all sat down to meat; and Barecolt, who well knew that the portion of good things which the saintly men of his day allotted themselves was by no means small, carved away at the joints without any modesty, and loaded his own plate amongst others with a mess sufficient for an ogre. Alas for the brief period of mundane felicity! Scarcely had three mouthfuls passed between Ins grinders, scarcely had one deep draught from the foaming tankard wetted his lips, when the sound of many horses' feet was heard, and the next instant the detestable blast of the trumpet was once more heard before the door. The landlord, who, as was then very customary, had sat down to share the meal prepared for his guests, started up, and ran out to the door, while Barecolt quietly approached the window and looked forth; then returning to the table, he whispered in a low voice to Diggory Falgate and Arrah Neil, "A party of the drunken tapsters and pimpled-nosed serving-men whom the roundhead rebels call cavalry. Master Falgate, be as silent as a church mouse, I command you, and answer not more than a monosyllable, whatever is asked you." "Are they from Hull?" demanded Arrah Neil, in a tone of alarm, as Barecolt resumed his seat and began to eat. "No, I think not," replied the gallant captain; "but we shall soon see, for here come some of them along the passage;" and as he spoke the door opened, giving admission to a stout, short-set man in a well-worn buff coat. CHAPTER XXVI.