"Yes; but you are not going to be a fighting man, sir; and, behindhand as you are with your studies, I think you might try a little more to do your instructor credit, and not waste time with one of the servants in such a barbaric pursuit as this. Lady Royland is waiting breakfast. You had better come at once." Feeling humbled and abashed before the old soldier, Roy followed the secretary without a word, and they entered the breakfast-room together, Lady Royland looking up pale and disturbed, and, upon seeing her son's face, exclaiming-- "Why, Roy, how hot and tired you look! Have you been running?" The secretary laughed contemptuously. "No, mother; practising fencing with Ben." "Oh, Roy!" cried his mother, reproachfully; "what can you want with fencing? My dear boy, pray think more of your books." Master Pawson gave the lad a peculiar look, and Roy felt as if he should like to kick out under the table so viciously that the sneering smile might give place to a contraction expressing pain. But Roy did not speak, and the breakfast went on. CHAPTER SIX. BEN MARTLET FEELS RUSTY. "Come to me in half an hour, Roy," said Master Pawson, as they rose from the table, the boy hurrying away to the armoury to find Ben busy as ever, and engaged now in seeing to the straps and fittings of the Italian suit of bronzed steel. "Thought I'd do it, sir," he said, "in case you ever asked for it; but I s'pose it's all over with your learning to be a man now." "Indeed it is not," said Roy, sharply. "I'm sure my father would not object to my learning fencing." "Sword-play, sir." "Very well--sword-play," said Roy, pettishly; "so long as I do not neglect any studies I have to go through with Master Pawson." "And I s'pose you've been a-neglecting of 'em, sir, eh?" said the old man, drily. "That I've not. Perhaps I have not got on so well as I ought, but that's because I'm stupid, I suppose." "Nay, nay, nay! That won't do, Master Roy. There's lots o' things I can do as you can't; but that's because you've never learnt." "Master Pawson's cross because I don't do what he wants." "Why, what does he want you to do, sir?" "Learn to play the big fiddle." "What!" cried the man, indignantly. "Then don't you do it, my lad." "I don't mean to," said Roy; "and I don't want to hurt my mother's feelings; and so I won't make a lot of show over learning sword-play with you, but I shall go on with it, Ben, and you shall take the swords or sticks down in the hollow in the wood, and I'll meet you there every morning at six." "Mean it, sir?" "Yes, of course; and now I must be off. I was to be with Master Pawson in half an hour." "Off you go, then, my lad. Always keep to your time." Roy ran off, and was going straight to Master Pawson's room in the corner tower, but on the way he met Lady Royland, who took his arm and walked with him out into the square garden. "Why, mother, you've been crying," said the boy, tenderly. "Can you see that, my dear?"