“What poor people? in what cave? Only wish I was one of ’em. Having it luscious, that’s what they’re a-having, Master Fred, sir. Chicken and eggs, and butter and new bread, and milk and honey, and nothing to do. Blankets to wrap ’em in, and cider and wine, and ladies to go and talk to ’em.”
“Samson, are you sure of this?” cried Fred, joyfully.
“Wish I was as sure as all this human being cock-fighting was nearly over, Master Fred.”
“Then you’ve been over?”
“’Course I have, sir. I aren’t like the colonel, about here all these weeks, and never going home nor letting you go. I got leave this time, for I met the general, and told him how near I was to my garden, and how anxious I was about the weeds, and he laughed and give me a pass directly.”
“And my mother?”
“Your mother, Master Fred? Why, I couldn’t get to know about them in the cave for her asking me questions about the colonel and her boy! She would call you a boy, sir, though you think you’re a man, and no more muscle in your arms than a carrot.”
“But the people in the cave, Samson?”
“Don’t I tell you they’re all right, sir—right as right can be; and first chance there’s going to be a boat round from Barnstaple to take Sir Godfrey and Miss Lil and my lady away across the sea to France, and Pshaw! I never heard the like of it; they’re going to take that great rough ugly brother of mine with them. They’re all right.”
Many weeks of busy soldiering followed, by which time the king’s power was crushed, and the Parliamentary forces had swept away all opposition. Regiments were gradually disbanded, and the Forresters at last returned to the Manor, from which Colonel Forrester’s stern sense of duty had kept him away, as much as the calls of his military life.