"And my son?" she added, faintly, scarcely daring to ask the
question.

"Safe, I hope," replied the colonel. "I saw him, and I could have
thought him my dear old friend himself, as he joined Charles in his
last desperate attempt to rally his forces, and then charged down
Sidbury Street with a few bold spirits who were resolved to cover
their master's retreat. He is not among the slain; he was not a
prisoner when I left the headquarters. I trust he may have escaped,
for Cromwell is fearfully incensed against your party."

Colonel Enderby was interrupted by Lucy's running in calling out,
"Mother, mother! there are no fowls but Partlet and the sitting hen,
and the old cock, and I won't have my dear old Partlet killed to be
eaten by wicked Roundheads."

"Come here, my little lady," said the colonel, holding out his hand,
amused by her vehemence.

"I won't speak to a Roundhead," returned Lucy, with a droll air of
petulance, pleased at being courted.

Her mother spoke gravely. "You forget yourself, Lucy. This is Mr.
Enderby, a friend of your dear father."

Lucy's cheeks glowed, and she looked down as she gave her hand to the
colonel; but as he spoke kindly to her, her forward spirit revived,
and she returned to the charge.

"You won't have Partlet killed?"