“Thou art late, Dick,” says my uncle as I made my obeisance to him, “and Sir Jarvis is well on his way to Pomfret if a’ be not there already. In these times, lad, one must stir one’s self and be up and about.” “I trust that your pain is relieved, sir,” says I, feeling glad that our guest had departed. “Why,” he answers, stifling a groan, “’tis certainly somewhat abated, nephew, and I have made shift to walk with a stick from my own chamber. In these days”--this time the groan came in spite of his rare fortitude--“a man must not think as much of his own ills and aches as of his Majesty’s necessities. It behoves me, Sir Nicholas Coope, knighted by His Majesty’s father, to do my duty, nephew Dick--even as it behoves thee to do thine.” “I trust, sir,” says I, “that you will not find me wanting in my duty to you.” “I’ve no doubt of that, boy,” says he, with a keen look at me, “but I wish thou wouldst show a little more enthusiasm for the good cause. ’Od’s body, mightst ha’ been a crop-eared Anabaptist last night, by thy long face, instead of a Royalist gentleman!” “Why, sir,” I rejoins, “to my mind there is no occasion for rejoicing at the prospect before us. It seems to me time for weeping and mourning rather than laughing and carousing. I see no pleasure in watching Englishmen slay Englishmen.” “Thou art a curious dull dog, Dick,” says my uncle, giving me a queer look. “’Sdeath, man--why, when I was thy age it would have rejoiced me to see prospect of a broken head or two. But this is neither here nor there when there’s business to talk of. Touching this matter of the garrisoning of Pomfret for the king, Dick, I have promised Sir Jarvis that thou shalt fill the place which I should have taken myself. Thou shalt not go empty-handed, either, lad--thou shalt have a good horse and good money, and a man--Robin shall attend thee--he has a pretty knowledge of many things that will be useful to thee. As for the law, it must wait. Tis a pity, but we must do the king’s behests first of all.” Now I was by that time in a tight corner, and felt myself fairly put to it. But into Pomfret Castle I would not go, and so there was naught for it but to say my say. “With all respect, sir,” says I, “I humbly venture to disagree with you. I have no wish to volunteer under Sir Jarvis Cutler, or any other gentleman. I desire to prosecute my studies, and to further my own advantage, as you have always desired me to do. I have no taste for wars, and least of all for a war of this sort. So I beg you, sir, to permit me to return to my peaceful avocations, and do what I can with them until such time as peace may be mercifully vouchsafed to us again.”