In came Dr Thorpe, shortly before Christmas, carrying in his hand a new shilling.
“See thee!” said he, “Isoult, look well hereon. Seest it?”
“Well, what of it, Doctor?” said she. “I have seen many afore.”
“Dost mark it?” inquired he.
“Ay,” she answered, marvelling what he meant.
“Well,” pursued he, “thou art not to speak evil of it.”
“I am not like,” said she, innocently, “for these new shillings be lesser and neater than the broad shilling, and they like me the rather.”
“Well,” responded he, “take thou heed. ‘Forewarned is forearmed.’”
“But what mean you. Dr Thorpe?” asked the puzzled Isoult.
“Nay, nay, now!” answered the old man. “This dolt, my Lord of Northumberland—they must have missed rocking of him in his cradle!—this patch, look thou, hath taken offence at the canting name men have given to these new shillings.”