"Yes," said Lucy, who, though two years older, wore the same prim
round cap and long frock as her little sister, "then we shall have
Edmund here again. You can't remember him at all, Eleanor and
Charlie, for we have not seen him these six years!"

"No," said Deborah, the maid. "Ah! these be weary wars, what won't
let a gentleman live at home in peace, nor his poor servants, who
have no call to them."

"For shame, Deb!" cried Lucy; "are not you the King's own subject?"

But Deborah maundered on, "It is all very well for gentlefolks, but
now it had all got quiet again, 'tis mortal hard it should be stirred
up afresh, and a poor soul marched off, he don't know where, to fight
with he don't know who, for he don't know what."

"He ought to know what!" exclaimed Lucy, growing very angry. "I tell
you, Deb, I only wish I was a man! I would take the great two-
handled sword, and fight in the very front rank for our Church and
our King! You would soon see what a brave cavalier's daughter--son I
mean," said Lucy, getting into a puzzle, "could do."

The more eager Lucy grew, the more unhappy Deborah was, and putting
her apron to her eyes, she said in a dismal voice, "Ah! 'tis little
poor Diggory wots of kings and cavaliers!"

What Lucy's indignation would have led her to say next can never be
known, for at this moment in bounced a tall slim boy of thirteen, his
long curling locks streaming tangled behind him. "Hollo!" he