"Perfectly," she replied. "I have been admiring him ever since I came into the stable. Since I cannot have my favourite steed, this will make an excellent substitute. Where did you procure him?" "Never mind where I got him," replied her brother. "I rode him at Newport, and lost him there, but he has since been captured from a Roundhead trooper, who might recognise him." After consulting the king by a glance, Jane said, "I will have that horse, and no other." Colonel Lane shrugged his shoulders and went out of the stables, followed by the others. As soon as they were gone, Lutwyche said to the king: "I don't want to know who you are, but I am certain you are not a groom. Go into the house and breakfast comfortably. I will get all ready for the journey." Charles thanked him heartily, and telling him he placed entire faith in him, quitted the stable, and proceeded to the house. CHAPTER IV. HOW WILL JONES BREAKFASTED WITH THE MEN-SERVANTS IN THE BUTTERY. Entering the buttery hatch, the king found the men-servants assembled at their morning meal. They were breakfasting very substantially on cold roast beef and ale. Concluding that he was the new groom, they asked him to join them, and Mr. March, the butler, who sat at the head of the table, and was treated with much respect by the others, carved him some slices of meat, and bade him fill his cup freely from the big brown jug before him. "You will find the ale good in this house, young man, I'll warrant you," observed Mr. March, whose stout person showed that he drank plenty of it himself. "We brew no small beer here. You are lucky in getting the place, let me tell you--all the more lucky that our young lady never before had a groom to attend her." "That's very true, Mr. March," said one of the men. "Mistress Jane would never ride on a pillion with old Lutwyche. This young man may therefore consider himself highly honoured." "Will Jones I believe is your name," said the butler. "Well, then, Will, you look like an honest young man--a simple young man, I may say--but you may be a very great rogue for all that." Here there was a general laugh, in which Charles himself joined good humouredly. "Nay, I mean no offence," pursued Mr. March. "I repeat, you look like an honest young man, but you may be a Roundhead, and all Roundheads are rogues. Am I not right?" he cried to the others. General assent to the proposition. "You see what sort of society you are in, young man, and can draw your own conclusions," pursued the butler. "There may be good fellowship amongst us, or there may not, according as we find you. What are your principles--Royalist or Republican?" "I am as staunch a Royalist as yourself, Mr. March," rejoined Charles, sturdily.