“Look what a fine specimen Mr. Bartley hath to-day brought me for the collection,” said Dr. Coke, looking up at her with a happy light in his eyes. “’Tis the finest I have ever seen.”
“Yes, yes,” said Hilary, trying to be patient; “but, uncle, there are soldiers halting in the village.”
She had at last brought him back from pre-historic times to the seventeenth century. He pushed back his chair and, putting on his college cap, rose to his feet.
“Now I think of it,” he said, “I met a couple of scouts when I was out—Massey’s men, judging by their ribbons.”
“Oh! don’t go then; you must not go, sir, if they are Massey’s men,” she said in terror.
“Why, yes, child, of course I must go,” he said, patting her shoulder caressingly. “’Tis my duty to try and keep the peace betwixt the soldiers and the village folk; I only trust they do not mean to stay here long. Let supper be made ready, for whether they be friends or foes we are bound by holy writ to feed them if they hunger. I’ll warrant, though, that you’d like to pepper the broth till it choked them!”
And with a laugh he went out, his eyes twinkling with humour at the thought of pretty Hilary with her vehement hatred of Parliamentarians getting ready the best evening meal that the house could provide.