"Getting yourself new wings, Sir James," said Newark, "will make the people say 'tis to fly with."
"Only to fly higher--to fly higher--to fly higher," replied Mount.
"Higher, higher, higher!" echoed Sir John Newark, with a cynical smile; "that is like the skylark. But you were born to mount; and so that is natural."
"True, true, true," answered his companion, laughing, and very much pleased at the exceedingly lame pun. "Like the skylark--born to mount--pretty, very pretty!" And he took out his tablets and wrote it down, talking all the time with marvellous perseverance. "Born to mount," he repeated three times, "like the skylark, must have wings, you know, Sir John--must have wings--must have wings. Shall we dine together? I have something very important--important--important, to discharge my mind of."
"I fear that I cannot stay to receive your fire," replied Sir John Newark. "You know I have a guest at Ale Manor, and must be back to entertain him."
"Ay, that's just the thing--just the thing--just the thing," said the old knight. "Is he Lord Eskdale or not--or not--or not?"
They had at this moment just reached the great arched entrance of the inn; and, without answering the question, Sir John called aloud for his horses. He was doomed, however, to disappointment and the society of Sir James Mount; for one of his servants, coming forward, informed him that they had just discovered that one of the horses had lost a shoe, and that his own beast seemed very lame. Sir John Newark was angry; but he uttered none of the oaths and exclamations common in that day, and merely, in a thoughtful and moderate tone, directed the one horse to be shod and the other to be examined by a farrier. Sir James Mount instantly fixed upon the servant, commended his own farrier to him, gave him particular directions where to find him, volunteered an opinion upon the cause of the horse's lameness, without having seen him, and recommended strongly a plaster of soap and boiled turnips, repeating one part of every sentence at least thrice, and sometimes more.
Whilst this was going on, Sir John Newark was meditating what he should next do. It was very difficult, on all occasions, to get rid of Sir James Mount; and, taking into consideration the improbability of his succeeding in an attempt to do so, and the length of time he should probably be obliged to stay, he made up his mind to engage him to dine in a private room, saying to himself--"I shall, at all events, get from him every piece of news that is going about the country, and shall prevent him from doing mischief with his tongue for an hour and a half at least."
Sir James was delighted with the proposal, and, although the hour was somewhat late for the early habits of that period, the number of gentlemen who had visited the town in the course of the day had created great activity at the inn, and dinner was easily procurable.
As soon as it was upon the table in the little parlour to which they were shown, Sir John Newark, who had been kept in some uneasiness by the incessant loquacity of his companion, dismissed the man who brought in the dishes, saying, as soon as he was gone, with a meaning nod, to worthy Sir James--