'Goodsooth, boy, thou hast seen a coach?'
'Ay, father—the coach an' four horses that runs to Grantham. You do not drive a thing like that?'
'Ay. And why not?'
The boy blushed scarlet. 'Why, father, you are Sir Vincent Fleming.'
'An' what o' that?'
'Then is it not against your pride to be a coachman?'
'Poor men must pocket pride, Master Charlie, as thou must learn some day.'
'Well, father, I like it not. Are you so poor, dear heart?'
'Ay, sweet heart, am I.'
'What makes ye so poor?'