"Certainly not," said Howard haughtily; "I hope we're not such idiots that we can't do carter's work."
"Carter's work! Why! 'tes carter's work to be keepin' of his wheels from gettin' bottom uppermost. Noa, noa, ye'll never be but gimcrack soarts o' carters, take ya at ya best, an' if ye're for doing of the upset yerselves, there should be six o' ye to the work, my lord, or ye'll make a mess o't, be shure."
"Then," said Howard, "it remains for you to supply us with the six needful pairs of breeches, and hobnailed shoes."
"I'll swear for the britches, an' the shoes ye'll have to make stretch as far as they'll go."
"And you," said Rumbold, turning to West and a group near.
"Ay, we engage for the coachman, the postilion, and the horses," nodded West. "We're quite content, Master Hannibal, to leave you to bring down the Blackbird and the Chaffinch. You're a fine shot, and ought to do it at one priming, with such tools as you've got for it; tho' 'tis true you'll be two to one, and your birds have got some blood in them."
"Ay, but their claws will be blunt," laughed Rumsey. "'Tis scarce probable, I mean, that they'll carry so much as a sword between them. They never do."
"Still assistance should be at hand, and close too," said Sir Thomas Armstrong.
Lawrence Lee in the toils.
"Among the whole twoscore names written here," said Rumbold, drawing a large roll of parchment from his pocket, and unrolling it, he glanced over its contents, "there is not a steadier hand, nor a stouter heart, than my young neighbour's here of Nether Hall, Lawrence Lee."