‘Come, dame,’ he cried, ‘give me a draught of your home-brewed. ’Tis the best drink I have tasted since Prince Rupert gave me a stirrup-cup a week ago.—And what’s this? By all that’s good, a stuffed chine! Ah! this is better than all your court kickshaws, and will stay my stomach well if there should be any fighting to-morrow;’ and so saying, he laid at once a pound or so upon his plate and applied himself vigorously to its consumption. ‘And where is your pretty daughter, Mistress Dimbell?’ he asked after a time. ‘Is she with her sweetheart? Ah, if you’ll only wait until we’ve beaten these confounded Roundheads, I’ll see that they get married. There’s a certain fair lady breaking her heart over me now, and so I can feel for pretty Barbara in these wild times.’ ‘I’m sure your honour’s very good,’ said the farmer’s dame; ‘and I wish you were safe out of all this fighting, for I should be sorry to see you come by any hurt.’ Just then a loud knock shook the door, and going to it, Mrs Dimbell saw a trooper leading his horse. Both man and beast were covered with dust and sweat from hard riding. ‘Is Captain Melford in?’ he asked in a loud tone. Melford could not avoid hearing the question, for the kitchen opened directly on the road, and so he jumped up and hurried to the door. ‘These for you, sir,’ said the trooper respectfully on seeing the captain, and handed him a large packet of papers. ‘There are stirring times at hand, and we’re going to have at Old Noll.’ ‘Ah!’ said the captain, ‘is that so? Well, come in, Radbourne, and eat something while I read these letters. You can tie your horse up to yonder tree; there is a sentinel will have an eye on him.’ ‘Thank your honour,’ said the soldier: ‘I shall be none the worse for a comfortable meal. We’ve been on the march since sunrise this morning, and I’ve tasted nothing but a pot of small beer since noonday.’ Having fastened his horse’s bridle to the tree, he soon seated himself at the table, where he made a mighty attack on the stuffed chine, and emptied almost at a draught the brown jug of ale. While he was thus engaged, the captain was busy reading his despatches and writing a reply to one of them. When he was ready, he called the soldier, and said: ‘Here, Radbourne; you must hurry back with all speed. Give this letter to the Prince, and say that all shall be done as he orders. You had better take your horse to the stable and rub him down and feed him, for it won’t do to break down to-night. But don’t delay starting, and keep your pistols loose.’ ‘All right, captain,’ said Radbourne, as he prepared to carry out these directions, at the same time casting a fond look at the empty ale-jug. The captain saw his glance, and said laughingly: ‘Come, good Mistress Dimbell, get this thirsty soul another draught, and he shall drink it to your health when he’s ready to start.’