"But," Giles cut in, "you scarcely think I--Ragged Robin--am the man who should have done it. My dear sir, consider"--Giles set down a pail of water he was bringing for Dick to wash in, and spoke earnestly.--"That kind of thing said amongst men--such men as your father and my master,--what would it bring you? Contempt and dislike. Believe me, those two things don't make pleasant living. But, observe now, you spoke without thinking, and because you knew no better. Has anyone taught you what a man's honour is?" "No, Giles," said Dick slowly, "but I think I know--a little." "Very good," said Giles. "You are here, and you have taken the King's honour to keep as well as your own. His Majesty has no use for persons who hit in the back. You understand? It's just one of the things we don't do--that such men as my master don't do." "There are others?" Dick questioned. "Many others. But you've learnt one; and be thankful you've learnt it with me, and not amongst strangers." And then he added gravely: "I was very violent; I was very much aggrieved at you. I must ask your honour to pardon my assault." Dick looked at the floor. "Of course," said Giles, "striking my superior officer in the face of the enemy proves me mutineer and insubordinate." Still Dick regarded the floor. "And, moreover," said Giles, "your honour is perfectly free to think, and say, and indeed act, now and always, as you please. What concern can it be of Giles the stableman?" Dick had nothing to add. "If you disgraced yourself before others, ought it to matter to Giles, or ought he to care?" Dick's face puckered curiously. Giles backed hurriedly to the door. "And thirdly and lastly, your honour's breakfast is waiting." Dick plunged after him and caught him by the ends of his fluttering rags. "Giles--I say--Giles--I am sorry I struck you," he cried huskily. And Giles turned with a laugh. "You're a gentleman, Dick!"