her host, as she cast a complacent eye on her nephew, who had just
succeeded in overthrowing three nine-pins at one stroke: "Sir Timothy
hath every aptitude for outdoor pursuits, and though my Lord Protector
deems all such recreations sinful, yet do I think they tend to the
development of muscular energy, which later on may be placed at the
service of the Commonwealth."

Sir Timothy Harrison at this juncture had the misfortune of expending
his muscular energy in hitting Squire Boatfield violently on the shin
with an ill-aimed ball.

"Damn!" ejaculated the latter, heedless of the strict fines imposed by
my Lord Protector on unseemly language. "I ... verily beg the ladies'
pardon ... but ... this young jackanapes nearly broke my shin-bone."

There certainly had been an exclamation of horror on the part of the
ladies at Squire Boatfield's forcible expression of annoyance, Dame
Harrison taking no pains to conceal her disapproval.

"Horrid, coarse creature, this neighbor of yours, good Sir Marmaduke,"
she said with her usual air of decision. "Meseems he is not fit company
for your ward."

"Dear Squire Boatfield," sighed Mistress Pyncheon, who was evidently
disposed to be more lenient, "how good-humoredly he bears it! Clumsy
people should not be trusted in a skittle alley," she added in a mild
way, which seemed to be peculiarly exasperating to Dame Harrison's
irascible temper.

"I pray you, Sir Timothy," here interposed Lady Sue, trying to repress