He stood, looking very important, as he gave a quick stamp and pointed towards the castle.
“You, Jenkin, go and put that sword away! Rogers and Martlet, go back to your work at once!”
“Stop!” said Roy, firmly, as the men looked at him for help. “Keep as you are. Master Pawson is my tutor, but he has no right to give you any orders.—I must ask you, sir, to go to your room, and not to interfere with what is going on around.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Ben, expelling a tremendous pent-up breath, and he turned and winked at Rogers and Jenk, though the poor old gate-keeper could not see.
“The boy is mad,” cried Master Pawson, flushing angrily now. “This is beyond bearing. An act of rebellion. Once more, sir, will you obey me?”
“Obey you, Master Pawson? In my studies, yes. Over the business of the castle, no!”
“I am striving to save you from being ridiculed by the whole district, sir, and I appeal to you not to force me to have you humbled by going in to complain to Lady Royland.”
“You will not humble me, sir, by going in to complain to my mother, for she endorses everything I have done.”
“Her ladyship does!” cried Master Pawson, looking quite aghast.
“Of course. All this is by my father’s orders.”