But not only did the lesser officials of that Church cheat the veteran knights of their pay, but their itching palm inflicted other wrong. It was the fitting custom to divide the fines, levied upon absentees from public worship, among the more habitually devout brethren. Gradually, however, the dean and canons appropriated these moneys to themselves, so that the less godly the knights were, the richer were the dean and canons. Further, many dying noblemen had bequeathed very valuable legacies to the College and poor fraternity of veterans. These the business-like ecclesiastics had devoted to their own entire profit; and it required stringent command from king and bishop, in the reign of Richard II., before they would admit the military legatees even to a share in the bequest. Not, indeed, that the stout old veterans were always blameless. Good living and few cares made “fast men” of some of them. There were especially two in the reign last named, who created very considerable scandal. These were a certain Sir Thomas Tawne and Sir John Breton. They were married men, but the foolish old fellows performed homage to vessels of iniquity, placed by them on the domestic altar. In other words, they were by far too civil to a couple of hussies with red faces and short kirtles, and _that_--not that such circumstance rendered the matter worse--before the eyes of their faithful and legitimate wives. The bishop was horror-stricken, no doubt, and the exemplary ecclesiastics of the College were enjoined to remonstrate, reprove, and, if amendment did not follow, to expel the offenders. Sir Thomas, I presume, heeded the remonstrance and submitted to live more decorously, for nothing more is said of him. Jolly Sir John was more difficult to deal with. He too may have dismissed Cicely and made his peace with poor Lady Breton, but the rollicking old knight kept the College in an uproar, nevertheless. He resumed attendance at chapel, indeed, but he did this after a fashion of his own. He would walk slowly in the procession of red-mantled brethren on their way to service, so as to obstruct those who were in the rear, or he would walk in a ridiculous manner, so as to rouse unseemly laughter. I am afraid that old Sir John was a very sad dog, and, however the other old gentleman may have behaved, he was really a godless fellow. Witness the fact that, on getting into chapel, when he retired to pray, he forthwith fell asleep, and could, or would, hardly keep his eyes open, even at the sacrament at the altar.