"Under Monck! Why, then, you must be a fool if you miss the good things showered on him and his friends by this heaven-sent Restoration!
"No, sir, I laid down my sword when the late—when Richard Cromwell left Whitehall."
Rupert's last remnant of ill-humour vanished in a peal of laughter.
"Good faith," he cried; "'tis worth an hour lost to learn that Tumble-down Dick had one follower, and, I warrant, a faithful one! Aller Teufel! thou art as good a lad as I have seen in this most virtuous and loyal city. Nevertheless, I cannot help thee."
"I have but to thank your Highness for your patience," said Dick.
"Yet stay," said the prince, who was indeed strangely taken by the young Roundhead, "stay; I am heartily sorry I cannot serve you. Are you in safety yourself? My credit is small, yet perchance it might stretch——"
"I thank you, sir," answered Dick, sadly; "I need nothing for myself."
The prince's interest seemed to grow. "I see not wherein I can move," he muttered, "and I would not if I could." He remained sunk in thought. "Harkye, sir, I am not one of those that love to deck out a city with carrion. I see naught gained by making war with the dead. Stone dead is the end of the story as far as it concerns a soldier. This healing and blessed Parliament, I hear, holds a gibbet a prettier sight than a stricken field; that is not my mind, and if I can move any of these valiant pantaloons to let General Harrison's body be delivered to his friends, I will do it. Good day to you." And, disregarding Dick's clumsy attempts at gratitude, the prince turned his back, and resumed his search for his pen.
Mr. Cowth, who had kept prudently in the background, took Dick by the arm, and pulled him out of the room.
"Take my thanks, Harrison," he chuckled, as he led him downstairs; "the black dog is off his Highness's back, and when he waits on his Majesty to-night, he will be worthy himself. Ah, Harrison; why art thou a Roundhead? Is not that a master worth serving?"