"Why, he said," I answered, "that this great letter comes to me on the King's service, and that I have nothing to pay for it," and I turned it over and over in my hands. But the inscription was plain enough. "To Master Simon Dale, Esquire, at Hatchstead, by Hatfield." By this time half the company was round us, and my Lord Clarendon well-nigh forgotten. Small things near are greater than great things afar, and at Hatchstead my affairs were of more moment than the fall of a Chancellor or the King's choice of new Ministers. A cry arose that I should open my packet and disclose what it contained. "Nay," said the Vicar, with an air of importance, "it may be on a private matter that the King writes." They would have believed that of my lord at the Manor, they could not of Simon Dale. The Vicar met their laughter bravely. "But the King and Simon are to have private matters between them one day," he cried, shaking his fist at the mockers, himself half in mockery. Meanwhile I opened my packet and read. To this day the amazement its contents bred in me is fresh. For the purport was that the King, remembering my father's services to the King's father (and forgetting, as it seemed, those done to General Cromwell), and being informed of my own loyal disposition, courage, and good parts, had been graciously pleased to name me to a commission in His Majesty's Regiment of Life Guards, such commission being post-dated six months from the day of writing, in order that Mr Dale should have the leisure to inform himself of his duties and fit himself for his post; to which end it was the King's further pleasure that Mr Dale should present himself, bringing this same letter with him, without delay at Whitehall, and there be instructed in his drill and in all other matters necessary for him to know. Thus the letter ended, with a commendation of me to the care of the Almighty. I sat, gasping; the gossips gaped round me; the Vicar seemed stunned. At last somebody grumbled, "I do not love these Guards. What need of guard has the King except in the love of his subjects?" "So his father found, did he?" cried the Vicar, an aflame in a moment. "The Life Guards!" I murmured. "It is the first regiment of all in honour." "Ay, my lad," said the Vicar. "It would have been well enough for you to serve in the ranks of it, but to hold His Majesty's Commission!" Words failed him, and he flew to the landlord's snuff-box, which that good man, moved by subtle sympathy, held out, pat to the occasion.