“But—but,” stammered the old fellow, “what does her ladyship say?”
“That she trusts to my father’s faithful old follower to work with me, and do everything possible for the defence of the place. Hurrah, Ben! God save the king!”
“Hurrah! God save the king!” roared Ben; and running to the wall he snatched a sword from where it hung, drew it, and waved it round his head. “Hah! Master Roy, you’ve made me feel ten years younger with those few words.”
“Have I, Ben? Why, somehow all this has made me feel ten years older.”
“Then you’ve got a bit off me that I had to spare, Master Roy, and good luck to you with it. Then,” he continued, after listening with eager attention to Roy’s rendering of his father’s orders, “we must go to work at once, sir.”
“Yes; at once, Ben.”
“Then the first thing is to order the gate to be kept shut, and that no one goes out or in unless he has a pass from her ladyship or from you.”
“Done, Ben. I have been to old Jenk, and he has shut the gate, and buckled on his old sword.”
“Hah! hum! yes,” said the old soldier, rubbing one of his ears; “that sounds very nice, Master Roy, but,” he continued, with a look of perplexity, “it doesn’t mean much, now, does it?”
“I don’t understand you.”