Winter lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips. Catesby only remarked, "We must buy strong pickaxes, then," and resumed his puffing in the calmest manner. "The seventh of February, is it not, Parliament meets?" "Ay. I trust the Bulls will come from Rome before that." "They will be here in time," said Garnet, rising. "Well, I wish you good-night, gentlemen. 'Tis time I was on my way to Wandsworth. I lie to-night at Mrs Anne's, whither she looks for her cousin Tresham to come." "My commendations to my cousins," said Catesby. "Good-night. We meet at White Webbs on Tuesday." "_Pax vobiscum_," said Garnet softly, as he left the room. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note 1. All these are old terms signifying a fool or idiot. Patch was the favourite jester of Henry the Eighth, whose name was used as synonymous with fool. CHAPTER FIVE. BEGINS WITH TEMPERANCE, AND ENDS WITH TREACHERY. "Whate'er we do, we all are doing this-- Reaping the harvest of our yesterdays, Sowing for our to-morrows." S.V. Partridge. On the following evening, Aubrey put in an appearance at the White Bear. As soon as he entered, he gave a quick, troubled look round the parlour, before he went up to kiss his grandmother's hand. His Aunt Temperance greeted him with, "Give you good even, my Lord Chamberlain! Lancaster and Derby! do but look on him! Blue feather in his hat--lace ruff and ruffles--doublet of white satin with gold aglets--trunk hose o' blue velvet, paned with silver taffeta--garters of blue and white silk-- and I vow, a pair o' white silken hose, and shoes o' Spanish leather. Pray you, my Lord, is your allowance from the King's Majesty five hundred pounds or a thousand by the year?" "Now, Aunt, you know," said Aubrey, laughing. "That thou art a spendthrift?" answered she. "Ay, I do: and if thou run not into debt this side o' Christmas, my name is not Temperance Murthwaite." "I'm not in debt a penny," retorted he. "Then somebody must have given thee thy pantofles," replied she. "Be they a cast-off pair of his Majesty's, or did my Lord Oxford so much alms to thee?" Aubrey laughed again, as merrily as if he had not a care nor a fault in the world. "They cost not so much as you reckon," he said. "Four yards of velvet," calculated Aunt Temperance--"you'll not do it under, stuffed that wise of bombast, nor buy that quality, neither, under eighteen shillings the yard--let's see,--that is three pounds twelve shillings: silver taffeta, a yard and an half, twenty-two and sixpence--that's four pounds fourteen and six; then the lining, dowlas, I suppose, at fourteen pence--" "They are lined with perpetuana, Aunt," answered Aubrey, who seemed greatly amused by this reckoning.