“Thou canst wring him by the nose, then,” said Constance, laughing. “Come, Nym! turn out—quick!” Edmund turned over on his face, buried it in the pillow, and tacitly intimated that to get up at the present moment was an impossibility.
“He’ll have another nap!” said little Roger, in the mournful tone of a prophet who foresaw the speedy accomplishment of his tragical predictions.
“But he must not!” exclaimed Constance, returning. “Then you must pluck him out, and set him on the floor,” repeated little Roger earnestly. “’Twill be all I can do to let him to (hinder him from) get in again then—without you clap his chaucers (slippers) about his ears,” he added meditatively, as if this expedient might possibly answer.
Constance took the future master of England by his shoulders, and pulled him out of bed without any further quarter. The monarch elect grumbled exceedingly, but in so inarticulate a style that very little could be understood.
“Now, Nym!” said Constance warningly to her refractory and dilatory nephew, “if thou get into bed again, we will leave thee behind, and crown Roger, that is worth ten of thee. By my Lady Saint Mary! a pretty King thou wilt make!”
“Eh?” inquired Edmund, brightening up. “Let be. Go on and busk thee. Roger! if he is not speedy, come to the door and say it.”
Constance went back to the girls. She found Anne nearly ready, but Alianora, who apparently shared the indolent disposition of her elder brother, was dressing in the most deliberate manner, though Maude and Anne were both hastening her as much as they could.
“Now, Nell!” said Constance, employing the weapon which had proved useful with Edmund, “if thou make not good speed, we will leave thee behind.”
“Well, what if so?” demanded Alianora coolly, tying a string in the most leisurely style.
“If I have not as great a mind to leave you both behind!”—cried Constance in an annoyed tone. “I will bear away Nan and Roger, and wash mine hands of you!”