A cloud had gathered on the colonel's brow. He perceived only too clearly that his son was unwilling to appear at court under his auspices, and he did not dare to press the matter, because, though Reginald was always respectful and in a general way obedient, the father was afraid of him. He knew it was a case of "so far and no farther".
"When are you thinking of starting?" asked Reginald.
"Not later than to-morrow early," said the colonel, "so see you are ready. You had better take two men for your own service, and I will take two for myself. Look to their clothes, their horses' harness, and their appointments altogether. I would not be behind my fellows."
"Am I to go as a Cavalier or as a Roundhead?" said his son.
"Roundhead!" answered his father furiously. "Who talks of Roundheads? Are we not all Cavaliers? Why, if you play your cards well, you may yet be Sir Reginald Newbolt."
"Nay," said Reginald, "there are many better men than we are, Father, who have won knighthood fighting for the king; they must come first, we after, if at all."
"Nonsense!" said his father; "if our new king picks and chooses like that, he will make a great mistake. Why, who are bringing him back? Not Royalists, but Cromwell's men. Let him remember that!"
Reginald shrugged his shoulders. "At least I should not put myself to the fore, if I were you, Father."
"You are a fool, Reginald. If I hold back I shall seem half-hearted, and that would never do. I shall ride and meet the king on his way to London, and join his escort. Will you come with me or not?"
"As far as London we will ride together," said Reginald, "but then we will part company. You are an old soldier; I am not yet sworn in."