When, as may be remembered, the porter led the knight into the second hall, our friend Longpole remained in the first, with those of his own degree; nor was he long in making acquaintance, and becoming intimate with every one round about, from the old seneschal, who took his place in the leathern chair by right of immemorial service, to the sucking serving-man who was hardly yet weaned from his mother's cottage, and felt as stiffly uncomfortable in his rich livery suit as a hog in armour, a cat in pattens, or any other unfortunate animal in a garb it has not been accustomed to. For all, and each, Longpole had his joke and his quibble; he played with one, he jested with the other, and he won the hearts of all. In short, every one was in a roar of laughter when the porter returned from the second hall, followed by one of those inferior gentlemen who had just found it inexpedient to follow up his purpose of casting Sir Osborne out. Immediately on entering, the porter pointed out Longpole to the other, who advanced and addressed him with a vastly supercilious air, which, however, did not produce any very awful effect upon the honest fletcher.[[4]]
"So, fellow," said he, "you are the servant of that gentleman in the old gray doublet?"
"Yes, your worship, even so," answered Longpole. "My honoured master always wears gray; for when he is not in gray cloth, he goes in gray iron; and as to its being old, better an old friend than a new foe."
"And who is your master? I should like to hear," asked the gentleman.
"Lord! does not your worship know?" demanded Longpole, giving a merry glance round the crowd, that stood already well disposed to laugh at whatever he should say. "Bless you, sir! my master's the gentleman that beat Gog and Magog in single fight, slew seventy crocodiles of the Nile before breakfast, and played at pitch and toss with the cramp bones of an elephant's hind leg. For heaven's sake, don't anger him: he'd eat a score such as you at a mouthful!"
"Come, fellow, no insolence, if you mind not to taste the stirrup leather," cried the other, enraged at the tittering of the menials. "You and your master both give yourselves too great airs."
"'Ods life, your worship, we are not the only ones!" answered Longpole. "Every Jack carries it as high as my lord, now-a-days; so I'll not be out o' the fashion."
"You had better bid your master get a new doublet, then," said the gentleman of the second hall, with a look of vast contempt.
"That your worship may have the old one?" asked Longpole, slily.
What this might have produced it is impossible to say, for a most insupportable roar burst from the servants at Longpole's last thrust; but at that moment the chamberlain entered from the second hall, and beckoned to the gentleman, who was no other than his cousin.