“Parson Meldew came and had a long talk with me day before yesterday, sir, and he told me that whatever I did I was to stay peacefully at home, mind my crops, and not interfere at all. But if I did, I was not to side with the king.”
“He dared to tell you that?” cried Roy.
“Not quite in those words, sir, but he meant it.”
“Oh, if he wasn’t a clerk, I’d say something,” cried Roy; “but what did you say?”
“Nothing, sir; I only laughed.”
“And do you mean to stay at home and do what he told you?”
“Of course, sir, unless there’s some fighting comes on, and then I suppose we shall have to begin.”
“Against the king?”
“I’m going to fight for my good old landlord, Master Roy, the best man I know. He always stood my friend in hard times, and if he sends word I am to, why, here I be with ten stout fellows, only you’ll have to drill us all, same as you’re doing with these here, unless pitchforks and flails will do; we can handle them.”
“Shake hands, Master Raynes,” cried Roy; “I want you and the men to come and drill every day in the mornings, and I want you to bring us in as much wheat, oats, and flour as we can store up. You must buy when you have not plenty, for we must be ready in case we are attacked.”