"You know, Lady Royland, how I have thrown myself heart and soul into the defence since I have found it necessary. You bade me go, but I would not. Duty said stay, and I risked my life in doing so; but as a favour, I beg that you will not let me be ousted from my two poor little rooms to gratify the whim of a very obstinate old soldier, who would turn your pleasaunce into a drill-ground." "I have given up my garden because it is wanted, Master Pawson," said Lady Royland, coldly. "To gratify a good soldier, I know, but a man who would have everything turned into a fighting place." "It is not fair of you, sir," said Roy, speaking very firmly. "This is no whim on the part of Martlet. Now that we are coming to using the guns, the men must have a place of shelter beneath the platform, and one where the powder may lie ready for handing up. We must have your sleeping-room." "Take it then," cried the secretary. "I give it up; but spare me my little sitting-room." "We want that too," said Roy. "We may have wounded men." "Then bring them in there, and I'll help to dress their wounds; but I must keep that." "Surely you can manage without depriving Master Pawson of that place, Roy," said Lady Royland. "Thank you, thank you, Lady Royland.--Yes, you hear that, Roy. You can--you must--you shall spare me that poor place. It is so small." "And suppose we have an accident, and the powder bestowed in your chamber above is blown up?" "Well, I shall have died doing my duty," said the secretary, with humility. "Wouldn't it be doing your duty more to try and avoid danger, so as to be useful to us all?" said Roy; and his mother's eyes flashed with pleasure, while the secretary started to hear such utterances from the mere boy he despised. "Perhaps so," he said, with a faint laugh; "but really, Roy, you will not be so hard upon me as to refuse that favour. Do not make me think that now you are castellan, you are becoming a tyrant." "There is no fear of my son becoming a tyrant, Master Pawson," said Lady Royland, smiling, and with something suggesting contempt for the speaker in her tones.--"Roy, dear, I think you might manage to let the lower room remain as it is for Master Pawson's use, if the upper floor is given up to the men. He could have the room next to yours for a bedchamber." "Oh, that would not be necessary," said the secretary, eagerly. "The one room is all I want--it can be my bedchamber too." "I hardly know what to say, mother," said the boy, gravely.--"Well, then, Master Pawson, keep your study; but we must have the upper room at once, and if you are annoyed by the going to and fro of the men on the staircase, you must not blame me."