"'Didst thou not roide from Ludlow to Northampton with the King?" sez he.
"'From whare, sor?' sez Oi.
"'From Ludlow, thou stoopid varlet,' sez he; and he raised his hand as though he filt loike hittin' me a blow on the ear.
"'Uh! yer honour,' sez Oi, 'it's makin' sport o' poor common souldier thou art doin'. Hivin knows, sor, whare that place ye spake o' may be; but fer moy part, yer honour, Oi nivir heard o' it afore.'
"'Oi know not what to make o' thee,' sez he, after he had stood a starin' at me whoilst a man moight brathe about the quarter o' a score o' toimes.
"'Mither-o'-Gawd!' sez Oi, a prayin' loike, 'dount lit him make me into anny thing loike hissilf.'"
This was too much for Harleston. He lay doubled up in his chair like a wizzled leaf in the fall of the year, and shaking as though the leaf he resembled was an aspen. He made no sound, but I could see it was all that he could do to refrain from bursting forth into one roar.
"Go on, Michael," said I, when I had somewhat recovered myself; for I too was bursting with pent up laughter, "What did he then say?"
"Uh! sure sor, he saw that Oi was but a poor fool, and that he could not git anny news out o' me, so he shrugged his shoulders loike a damned Frinchmin and walked on. But still he kipt alookin' back as though he didn't know whither to belave me or not."
"Ah, Michael, thou art indeed a true soldier and a faithful servant. From this time forth I do desire thee to attend me as my squire. In field of battle, or in the lists, do thou attend me; for well do I know that a truer heart or a stronger arm in England there is not."