Constance desired Maude to hasten the girls in dressing, which must be done by the fitful moonlight, as best it could, and went herself into the inner chamber. Both the boys were asleep. They were Edmund, the young Earl, whose age was nearly thirteen, and his little brother Roger, who was not yet eight. Constance laid her hand lightly on the shoulder of the future King. "Nym!" she said. "Hush! make no bruit." The boy was sleeping too heavily to be roused at once; but his little brother Roger awoke, and looked up with two very bright, intelligent eyes. "Are we to be killed?" he wanted to know; but his query was not put in the frightened tone of his sister. "Not so, little one. Wake thy brother, and rise quickly." "'Tis no light gear to wake Nym," said little Roger. "You must shake him." Constance put the advice in practice, but Edmund only gave a grunt and turned over. "Nym!" said his little brother in a loud whisper. "Nym! wake up." Edmund growled an inarticulate request to be "let be." "Then you must pinch him," said little Roger. "Nip him well--be not afeard." Constance, extremely amused, acted on this recommendation also. Edmund gave another growl. "Nay, then you must needs slap him!" was the third piece of advice given. Constance laughingly suggested that the child should do it for her. Little Roger jumped up, boxed his brother's ears in a decided manner, and finally, burying his small hands in Edmund's light curly hair, gave him a dose of sensation which would have roused a dormouse. "Is he in this wise every morrow?" asked Constance. "Master Gaoler bringeth alway a wet mop," said little Roger confidentially. "Wake up, Nym! If thou fallest to sleep again, I must tweak thee by the nose!" This terrible threat seemed to be nearly as effectual as the mop. Edmund stretched himself lazily, and in very sleepy accents desired to know what his brother could possibly mean by such wanton cruelty. "Where is thy breeding, churl, to use such thewis [manners] with a lady?" demanded little Roger in a scandalised voice. "Lady!--where is one?" murmured Edmund, whose eyes were still shut. "Methinks thou art roused now, Nym," said Constance. "But when thou shalt be a knight, I pity thy squire. Haste, lad, rise and busk thee in silence, but make as good speed as ever thou canst Roger, see he turneth not back to sleep. I go to thy sisters." "Nay, but he will, an' you pluck him not out of bed!" said little Roger, who evidently felt himself unfit to cope with the emergency. "Thou canst wring him by the nose, then," said Constance, laughing. "Come, Nym! turn out--quick!" Edmund turned over on his face, buried it in the pillow, and tacitly intimated that to get up at the present moment was an impossibility. "He'll have another nap!" said little Roger, in the mournful tone of a prophet who foresaw the speedy accomplishment of his tragical predictions.