"Ah, I recollect!" cried Charles. "No wonder you are well acquainted with the district."
"I have not seen Bromhall for years," pursued Careless, "and few recollect me. Nevertheless, I can make myself at home there."
"Take my advice, and go not near the place," said Charles. "Of a certainty you will be discovered by the rebel troopers from Codsall. Since you are familiar with the forest, hide yourself within it, and join me at Boscobel. But now for my disguise. No one but yourself shall clip off my locks. Have you procured a pair of scissors from Dame Penderel?"
"Here they are, sire," replied Careless, producing them.
"'Sdeath! they are like shears," exclaimed the king. "However, they will do the work more quickly. Have you aught to throw over my shoulders?"
"A towel borrowed from the good dame."
"That will do," replied Charles. "Now begin, and lose no time."
It required a desperate effort on Careless's part to commence, but in a few minutes he had cut off the long black locks on which the young monarch had justly prided himself.
"Have you done?" asked Charles.
"Be pleased to look at yourself in the glass, sire, and you will find your hair cropped as close as that of a Puritan."