“No, no; I do not look upon you as a coward,” said Roy, hastily. “It is really because that will be a dangerous spot, and the rooms must be strongly occupied.”
“But, as I said, you have the guns at the top. Really, I must protest; I am so much attached to those little rooms. Surely you can let me stay. I do not mind the firing. I will not go near the windows.”
“You do not grasp the fact that these angle towers are our greatest protection,” said Roy, firmly. “I am sorry to give you all the trouble and annoyance, but we must have the chambers below. The one you use for a sleeping-room is absolutely necessary for the powder.”
“Indeed, Lady Royland, they could manage without,” protested the secretary, warmly. “It would be a dreadful inconvenience to me to give them up. There are the books and my papers. Oh, it is really impossible.”
“You forget, Master Pawson, that we all have to make sacrifices now, and that we shall have to make more and greater ones yet, before this unhappy trouble is at an end.”
“Yes, yes, I know, Lady Royland, and I am ready to do anything to assist you,” cried the secretary, excitedly.
“Then give up your rooms like a man,” said Roy, “and without making so much fuss.”
Master Pawson darted an angry look at the boy and then turned to his mother.
“You know, Lady Royland, how I have thrown myself heart and soul into the defence since I have found it necessary. You bade me go, but I would not. Duty said stay, and I risked my life in doing so; but as a favour, I beg that you will not let me be ousted from my two poor little rooms to gratify the whim of a very obstinate old soldier, who would turn your pleasaunce into a drill-ground.”
“I have given up my garden because it is wanted, Master Pawson,” said Lady Royland, coldly.