At this moment Juxon entered the hall from Old Beech:--he caught the last sentence; and putting one hand on Arthur’s shoulder, as he gave the other to Sir Oliver.--“Remember, my young master,” he said, “that thy game must be caught before it can be cooked, at least so says the cookery book in my old housekeeper’s room; and, believe me, you will find a day’s fighting with these Parliament boys rather harder work than a morning’s hare-hunting, and little game bagged at the close of it.” “Why, George Juxon! this from you!” said Sir Oliver. “Why, you are the very last man that I expected to hear croak in this fashion. Why, I expect to see the vagabonds turn tail, before a charge of well mounted cavaliers, like a flock of sheep.” “You could not see such a runaway flight with greater pleasure than I should; but take my word for it, the King’s enemies are made of sterner stuff than you give them credit for. Many a great spirit is reckoned among their leaders; and of the meaner folk that follow them numbers have put their hearts into the cause, under a notion that it is that of the people. No, sir, Arthur will act in these troubles, I am well assured, with the same manliness of spirit with which he wrote to you from Oxford, and, therefore, I do not wish to hear him talk like a school boy.” Arthur coloured with a little confusion at this grave rebuke; but, with the frank grace of a generous spirit, confessed himself to have spoken idly, and to be wrong; excusing it, at the same time, by saying, that he was only vapouring so to plague Jane Lambert a little, who, he verily believed, to be in love with one of the rebels. The eyes of Katharine fell, and her gaze was fixed silently upon the ground, and a slight contraction of her brow showed to Jane how very keenly she was suffering. It was not possible, at the moment, to leave the table without an abruptness which must, of necessity, attract notice, or she would have done so; but Jane, with a ready cheerfulness, replied, “Perhaps I am: now, guess for me, most noble cavalier, whether my Puritan suitor be tall or short; young or old; how many hairs grow on his chin; whether his cheeks be red and white, like summer apples; how much buff it may take to make him a war coat; and if he do not wear high boot heels and jingling spurs for bravery?” The fine temper of Arthur enabled him to take this playful raillery of Jane’s as pleasantly as it was meant; and Sir Oliver came to the boy’s aid, observing, “The sly maiden is laughing at us both, Arthur; and it is too true that I must have a broad seam let into my old buff coat.--See thou have it done quickly,” said he, “Philip,” turning to the old serving man behind his chair. The announcement, however, which Sir Oliver had before made of his intentions, confirmed by the order thus gaily given, seemed to take away the old man’s breath; for to old Philip none of these sad changes were matters for laughter.