gentleman--to tog himself up so!

The boy also liked the man's voice when he turned towards the tent and
called:--

"Lubin, you drunken dog, come hither," a call which brought forth a
servant-like person, who, by reason of his clean-shaven face and red
nose, reminded the boy of Pattern the coachman.

He wore a dark cloth suit, cotton stockings, shoes that had neither
laces nor buttons, but fastened with a kind of strap and buckle, and,
queer creature, a big Eton collar!

"Sword and horse, rascal," said the gentleman, "and warn Digby for
duty. Bring me wine and a manchet of bread."

The man bowed and re-entered the tent, to emerge a moment later
bearing _the Sword_.

How the cut-steel hilt sparkled and shone! How bright and red the
leather scabbard--now black, dull, cracked and crumbling. But it was
unmistakeably _the_ Sword.

It hung from a kind of broad cross-belt and was attached to it by
several parallel buckled straps--not like Father's Sam Browne belt at
all.

As the gentleman rose from his stool (he must have been over six feet
in height) Lubin passed the cross-belt over his head and raised left
arm so that it rested on his right shoulder, and the Sword hung from