“Why tarried ye so long?” said one of the older bachelors, roughly, as the two lads emptied the water into the wooden trough. He sat on the edge of the cot, blowzed and untrussed, with his long hair tumbled and disordered.
His dictatorial tone stung Myles to fury. “We tarried no longer than need be,” answered he, savagely. “Have we wings to fly withal at your bidding?”
He spoke so loudly that all in the room heard him; the younger squires who were dressing stared in blank amazement, and Blunt sat up suddenly in his cot.
“Why, how now?” he cried. “Answerest thou back thy betters so pertly, sirrah? By my soul, I have a mind to crack thy head with this clog for thy unruly talk.”
He glared at Myles as he spoke, and Myles glared back again with right good-will. Matters might have come to a crisis, only that Gascoyne and Wilkes dragged their friend away before he had opportunity to answer.
“An ill-conditioned knave as ever I did see,” growled Blunt, glaring after him.
“Myles, Myles,” said Gascoyne, almost despairingly, “why wilt thou breed such mischief for thyself? Seest thou not thou hast got thee the ill-will of every one of the bachelors, from Wat Blunt to Robin de Ramsey?”
“I care not,” said Myles, fiercely, recurring to his grievance. “Heard ye not how the dogs upbraided me before the whole room? That Blunt called me an ill-conditioned knave.”
“Marry!” said Gascoyne, laughing, “and so thou art.”
Thus it is that boldness may breed one enemies as well as gain one friends. My own notion is that one's enemies are more quick to act than one's friends.