“Of a gentleman, Sir,” said Jack.
“Four pound, Brother! Thou must mean four shillings,” cried Rachel.
“’Tis writ four pound,” calmly returned Sir Thomas.
“Good lack Jack!” said Rachel, turning to her nephew. “Were there angels for buttons all the way down?”
“The broidery, Aunt—the broidery!” returned Jack. “Four pound is a reasonable charge enough. Marry, I do ensure you, my sometime Lord of Leicester was wont to pay ten pound the piece for his shirts.”
“I would I had been his shirt-maker!” said Rachel. “’Twould have built up my fortune.”
“What wist thou touching broidery, Jack?” demanded Lady Enville, with her silvery laugh.
“Go to!” said Sir Thomas, taking up the next bill. “‘Five score of silk stockings, broidered, with golden clocks (Note 1), twenty-six and eight-pence the pair.’—Those be necessaries, belike, Jack?”
“Assuredly, Sir. White, look you—a pair the day, or maybe two.”
“Ha!” said his father. “‘Item, one short coat, guarded with budge (lambskin), and broidered in gold thread, 45 pounds.—Item, one long gown of tawny velvet, furred with pampilion (an unknown species of fur), and guarded with white lace, 66 pounds, 13 shillings, 4 pence.’—Necessaries, Jack?”