"Methinks your duty to your mother and Lady Lettice should be your first business after God," said the Countess gravely. "I pray you, Mr Louvaine, that you wait on her Ladyship to-morrow even. The Earl will give you leave." Aubrey bowed, and as the Countess took her departure, for she had merely paused in passing through the room, gave a vicious blow to the nearest billiard ball. "You are in for it now, Louvaine!" said his next neighbour. "Poor lad! will his gra'mmer beat him?" suggested another in mock compassion. "He's been stealing apples, and the parson has told of him," added a third. "Will you hold your stupid tongues?" said Aubrey, stung beyond endurance. "Take a pinch of sneezing tobago," said one of his companions, holding out his snuff-box. "Never mind it, lad! put on a bold face, and use ruffling language, and you'll get over this brunt." Aubrey flung down his cue and escaped, pursued by his companions' laughter. "We were somewhere near the truth," said the young Earl. "He looks for a scolding, take my word for it." Very like it Aubrey felt, as he went down King Street on the following evening. He, too, met a man, not in blue camlet, but in a porter's frock, trundling a truck with two or three barrels on it, in whom he did not in the least recognise the dark, tall stranger to whom he had not been introduced in Catesby's rooms. He received a warm welcome at the White Bear. "Aubrey, hast thou of late seen thine acquaintance Mr Percy?" "Not since his return out of the country, Madam." He had seen Winter, but he did not think it necessary to mention it. "Nor Mr Catesby?" "Nay, save to meet him in the street, Madam." "My son, should it give thee great compunction [grief, annoyance] if I bade thee have no more ado with either of these gentlemen?" "What mean you, Madam?" "I mean not that if thou meet them in the street thou shalt not give them greeting; but no more to visit them in their lodgings. My boy, Mr Percy is a Popish recusant, and there is much fear of Mr Catesby likewise." "Not all recusants are bad men, I hope," answered Aubrey evasively, as if he were unwilling to respond by a direct promise to that effect. "I hope likewise: but some are, as we know. And when innocent men be drawn in with bad men, 'tis often found that the bad slip forth unhurt, and leave the innocent to abide the hazard. Promise me, Aubrey, that thou wilt haunt [visit] these men's company no longer." "Truly, Madam, I know not what I should say to my friends. Bethink you also, I pray, that I am of age." "Of what age?" demanded his Aunt Temperance in her usual style. "Not of the age of discretion, I being witness." "Of the age at which a man commonly takes care of himself," answered Aubrey, loftily.