"His Lordship's chamber secretary," replied Cocklescraft; "brought hither I know not when nor whence. A silent-paced, priestly pattern of modesty, who feeds on the favour of his betters, as a lady's dog, that being allowed to lick the hand of his mistress, takes the privilege to snarl on all who approach her. I shall make light work with him by whipping him out of my way. Why are you angry, that you scowl so, Master Rob?" "I needs must be angry to see thee make a fool of thyself," replied the master of the hut. "Verheyden--his Lordship's secretary!" he muttered to himself. "No, no! it would be a folly to think it." "Mutter as you will, Rob," said Cocklescraft; "by St. Iago, I will try conclusions with the Secretary--folly or no folly! He hath taught the maiden," he added, with a bitter emphasis, "to affect a scorn for me, and he shall smart for it." "Ha! thy spirit is ever for undoing!" exclaimed Rob, suddenly changing his mood, and forcing a harsh laugh of derision. "Mischief is your proper element--your food, your repose, your luxury. Well, if thou needst must take on a new life, and strive to be worshipful, I would counsel thee to begin it with some deed of charity, not strife. I had as well make my lecture to a young wolf! Ha, Dickon, thou wilt be a prospering pupil to the master that teaches thee the virtue of charity! Such rede will be welcome to thee as water to thy shoes! I have scanned thee in all thy humours!" "I spurn upon your advice, and will not be scorned, old man!" said Cocklescraft, angrily. "The maiden shall be mine, though I pluck her from beneath her father's blazing roof-tree; and then farewell to the province, and to thee! Mark you that! I come not to be taunted with thy ill-favoured speech! My men shall be withdrawn from the Chapel. I will put them on worthier service than to minister to thy greediness." "Hot-brained, silly idiot--thou drivelling fool!" shouted Rob. "Dost thou not know that I can put thee in the dust and trample on thee as a caitiff? that I can drive thee from the province as a vile outlaw? Art thou such a dizzard as to tempt my anger? If you would thrive even in your villanous wooing, have a care not to provoke my displeasure! One word from me, and not a man paces thy deck: thou goest abroad unattended, stiverless--a fugitive, with hue and cry at thy heels. How dar'st thou reprove me, boy?" "Thy hand, Rob," said Cocklescraft, relenting. "You say no more than my folly warrants; I am a wanton fool: your pardon--let there be peace between us."