"Not so, sir, as yet, I beg of you. Neither his head nor his side
can brook the journey for at least another week, and indeed my good
sister Woodford will hardly know how to part with her patient."

"She will not long be of that mind after Master Perry gets to his
feet again," muttered the chaplain.

"Indeed no," chimed in the mother. "There will be no more peace in
the house when he is come back."

"I assure you, madam," said Dr. Woodford, "that he has been a very
good child, grateful and obedient, nor have I heard any complaints."

"Your kindness, or else that of Mrs. Woodford, carries you far,
sir," answered his host.

"What? Is my nephew and namesake so peevish a scapegrace?" demanded
the visitor.

On which anecdotes broke forth from all quarters. Peregrine had
greased the already slippery oak stairs, had exchanged Oliver's
careful exercise for a ribald broadsheet, had filled Mr.
Horncastle's pipe with gunpowder, and mixed snuff with the chocolate
specially prepared for the peculiar godly guest Dame Priscilla
Waller. Every one had something to adduce, even the serving-men
behind the chairs; and if Oliver and Robert did not add their quota,
it was because absolute silence at meals was the rule for nonage.
However, the subject was evidently distasteful to the father, who
changed the conversation by asking his brother questions about the
young Prince of Orange and the Grand Pensionary De Witt. For the