"This in our presence!" said the King, tapping his foot upon the ground,
his brows contracting, and the narrow dignity of the divine right lifting
his nostrils scornfully.

"No treason, may it please your Majesty," said Enderby, "and it were
better to speak boldly to the King's face than to be disloyal behind his
back. My estates will not bear the tax which the patent of this
knighthood involves. I can serve the country no better as Sir John
Enderby than as plain John Enderby, and I can serve my children best by
shepherding my shattered fortunes for their sakes."

For a moment Charles seemed thoughtful, as though Enderby's reasons
appealed to him, but Lord Rippingdale had now the chance which for ten
years he had invited, and he would not let it pass.

"The honour which his Majesty offers, my good Lincolnshire squire, is
more to your children than the few loaves and fishes which you might
leave them. We all know how miserly John Enderby has grown."

Lord Rippingdale had touched the tenderest spot in the King's mind. His
vanity was no less than his impecuniosity, and this was the third time in
one day he had been defeated in his efforts to confer an honour, and
exact a price beyond all reason for that honour. The gentlemen he had
sought had found business elsewhere, and were not to be seen when his
messengers called at their estates. It was not the King's way to give
anything for nothing. Some of these gentlemen had been benefited by the
draining of the Holland fens, which the King had undertaken, reserving a
stout portion of the land for himself; but John Enderby benefited
nothing, for his estates lay further north, and near the sea, not far