"'Tis so!" exclaimed Juggins. "Beyond doubt 'tis so. Aye, Master Harry, this will be no ordinary struggle I send you upon. And mayhap de Veulle will recognize you."
I struck him heavily on the shoulder.
"Do you think 'my father's son' will draw back on such excuse at this hour!" I said.
He laughed ruefully, and raised his hail for granny.
"Ho, Goody! Goody, hast lain abed all day! Here are two hungry forest-runners will eat your kitchen bare."
Granny tripped into the hall, a mug of bitter ale in either hand.
"I heard what you said, and Master Harry's answer," she rebuked him. "Think shame on yourself, Robert, to hint that he would hesitate before peril—and you sending him into it, too," she added somewhat illogically, I thought. "Now, do both of you drain these. 'Twill wash the taste of the streets and taverns from your mouths."
We obeyed her.
"And what luck did you have?" she demanded next.
"He leaves us Saturday," said Juggins simply.