“And who married them, Jack?” asked Isoult.
“Bishop Ridley.”
“Body o’ me! who ever looked at Bishop Ridley, I would like to know!” cried Dr Thorpe, coming halting in as though he had hurt himself. “Isoult, if thou canst ever get my left shoe off, I will give thee a gold angelet (half-angel; in other words, a gold crown). Yonder dolt of a shoemaker hath pinched me like a pasty. But O the brave doings! ’Tis enough to make a man set off to church and be married himself!”
And the old man sat down in a great chair.
“I will strive to earn it, Doctor,” said Isoult, laughing, as she sat down on the hearth before him, and took his lame foot in her lap. “Art thou weary, Robin?”
“Not much,” said Robin, smiling. “The shoemaker did not pinch me.”
“Beshrew him for an owl that he did not!” answered Dr Thorpe, testily. “Thou hadst stood it the better. Eh, child, if thou hadst seen the—mind thy ways, Isoult!—the brave gear, and the jewels, and the gold chains, and the estate (Note 2), and the plumes a-nodding right down—Oh!”
His shoe hurt him in coming off, and he sat rubbing his foot.
“Was Mr Rose there?” said Isoult, when they had finished laughing.
“No,” said Robin.