"Thank you again, Lady Royland," he said, as he went on calmly with his breakfast; "it is very good of you, and when I require it, I will ask." "Better that it should be done at once, sir," Lady Royland said, firmly, "and that you should go." "And leave you and Master Roy here to your fate!" "We can protect ourselves, sir." "You must forgive me for being so slow over my breakfast, Master Roy," said the secretary, smiling in the lad's disgust-filled face. "I see you are impatient to go, but I am talking so much." "Oh, eat a good breakfast," said Roy, now he was thus appealed to, "for the last--" "Oh, no! not by a great many," said Master Pawson, smiling. "I like the dear old castle far too well, and I hope to have many a long year of happy days in it. It is very good of you, Lady Royland; but I hope I can do my duty to Sir Granby like a man. You judge me by what I said at the beginning of these preparations. I thought then that I was right. I did not believe we should be interfered with here; but I see now that I was wrong, and I am ready to help you heart and soul. Do you think I could go away at a time like this? Why, I should never forgive myself-- never. It is impossible, Lady Royland; now isn't it, Roy? I'm not a fighting man; nature never meant me for anything but music and books, but I'm not such a contemptible coward as all that. When the enemy comes and begins firing, I may be induced to go somewhere that I think _is_ safe; but go away? No, I could never hold up my head again." "Master Pawson," cried Roy, excitedly, springing from his seat, "do you mean this?" "Mean it, Roy?" said the secretary. "Why, of course. I promised Sir Granby to do my duty by his dame and his son, and according to the best of my powers. I'm going to do it, and--Well, that's a very nice raised pie." "Here, I want to beg your pardon, Master Pawson, for all kinds of unpleasant thoughts about you," cried Roy, going round to the secretary and holding out his hand, which the other took and held. "Do you?" he said, laughing. "Oh, no, there's no need. Boys generally quarrel mentally with their teachers just out of want of knowledge. I know. You've called me old Pawson many a time--now, haven't you?--and said I was fat and soft and stupid, eh?" The lad did not answer, but looked scarlet. "That's all right, Roy. I'm old enough to understand a little about human nature. Don't you think I mind what a boy says or does in a fit of spleen. We shall understand one another better as time goes on."