said he, in a patois of English and French, which Leonard could
easily understand, although he had always turned a deaf ear to
Gaston's attempts to instruct him in the latter language. However,
a grunt was his only reply.

"Or," pursued the Squire, "have you any fancy for carrying it
yourself? I, for my part, think we are well quit of the trouble."

"Why, ay," said Leonard, "but I trow I have as much right to serve
at the Prince's table as dainty Master Eustace. My father had never
put me under Sir Reginald's charge, had he deemed I should be kept
here among the serving-men."

"Sir Reginald? Which Sir Reginald has the honour of your service?"
asked the Squire, to whom Leonard's broad Somersetshire dialect
seemed to present few difficulties.

"Sir Reginald Lynwood, he with the curled brown locks, next to that
stern-looking old fellow with the gray hair."

"Ay, I know him of old. Him whom the Duke of Lancaster is pledging
--a proud, strict Englishman--as rigid a service as any in the camp."

"I should think so!" said Leonard. "Up in the morn hours before
the sun, to mass like a choir of novices, to clean our own arms
and the Knight's, like so many horse-boys, and if there be but a
speck of rust, or a sword-belt half a finger's length awry--"

"Ay, ay, I once had a fortnight's service with a Knight of that
stamp, but a fortnight was enough for me, I promise you. And