Neither answered; but, with the points of the swords resting on the old oak floor, they stared at him abashed.
“‘They that take the sword shall perish with the sword.’”
There was silence in the grand old hall for a brief space, as the two boys stood there in the centre, with the bright lights from the stained-glass windows showering down upon them, and the portraits of Scarlett’s warlike ancestors seeming to be watching intently all that was taking place.
Then Sir Godfrey moved slowly across the hall, paused and looked back, and then said gently—
“Put the weapons away, my lads. Warfare is too terrible to be even mimicked in sport.”
He sighed and passed through the farther door, leaving the boys gazing at each other in silence.
“How serious he is!” said Scarlett, at last. “Let’s put them away. I thought he was going to scold us for taking them down.”
“Yes, I thought that,” said Fred. “But I should like to be a soldier, all the same, only without any war. Ugh! only fancy giving a man a chop with a thing like that,” he added, as he replaced the weapon. “Here, I’m off home,” he cried, as he ran to the door.
“Good-bye, old soldier without any war. I say, Fred.”
“Well?”