Hob had done nothing in that way, not even begun to teach him the
quarterstaff, though he avouched that when there was cause the young
lord was no craven, no more than any Clifford ever was--witness when
he drove off the great hound, which some said was a wolf, when it
fell upon the flock, or when none could hold him from climbing down
the Giant's Cliff after the lamb that had fallen. No fear but he had
heart enough to make his hand keep his own or other folks' heads.

'That is well,' said Sir Lancelot, looking at the lad, who stood
twisting his hands in the speechless silence induced by being the
subject of discussion; 'but it would be better, as my lady saith, if
he could only learn not to bear himself so like a clown.'

However, there was no more time, for Simon Bunce, the old man-at-arms
whom Sir Lancelot had appointed to meet him there, came in sight
through the trees, riding an old grey war-horse, much resembling
himself in the battered and yet strong and effective air of both.
Springing down, the old man bent very low before the young Baron,
raising his cap as he gave thanks to Heaven for permitting him to see
his master's son. Then, after obeisance to his present master, he
and Hob eagerly shook hands as old comrades and fellow-soldiers who
had thought never to meet again.

Then turning again to the young noble, he poured out his love,
devotion and gratitude for being able to serve his beloved lord's
noble son; while poor Hal stood under the discomfort of being
surrounded with friends who knew exactly what to say and do to him,
their superior, while he himself was entirely at a loss how to show
himself gracious or grateful as he knew he ought to do. It was a