“Ay, that will it, unless the Commons go down on their knees and ask his majesty’s pardon, of which there is, methinks, no likelihood.  As was to be expected, the burghers and rabble of the large towns are everywhere with them, and are sending up petitions to the Commons to stand fast and abolish everything.  However, the country is of another way of thinking, and though the bad advisers of the king have in times past taken measures which have sorely tried our loyalty, that is all forgotten now.  His majesty has promised redress to all grievances, and to rule constitutionally in future, and I hear that the nobles are calling out their retainers in all parts.  England has always been governed by her kings since she was a country, and we are going to try now whether we are to be governed in future by our kings or by every tinker, tailor, preacher, or thief sent up to Westminster.  I know which is my choice, and to-morrow I shall set about raising a troop of lads of the same mind.”

“You mean to take me, sir, I hope,” Harry said.

“Take you?” his lather repeated, laughing.  “To do what?”

“To fight, certainly,” Harry replied.  “I am sure that among the tenants there is not one who could use the small sword as I can, for you have taught me yourself, and I do not think that I should be more afraid of the London pikemen than the best of them.”

“No, no, Harry,” his father said, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder; “I do not doubt your bravery.  You come of a fighting stock indeed, and good blood cannot lie.  But you are too young, my boy.”

“But if the war goes on for a couple of years, father.”

“Ay, ay, my boy; but I hope that it will be ended in a couple of months.  If it should last—­which God forbid!—­you shall have your chance, never fear.  Or, Harry, should you hear that aught has happened to me, mount your horse at once, my boy; ride to the army, and take your place at the head of my tenants.  They will of course put an older hand in command; but so long as a Furness is alive, whatever be his age, he must ride at the head of the Furness tenants to strike for the king.  I hear, by the way, Harry, that that Puritan knave, Rippinghall, the wool-stapler, is talking treason among his hands, and says that he will add a brave contingent to the bands of the Commons when they march hither.  Hast heard aught about it?”

“Nothing, father, but I hope it is not true.  I know, however, that Master Rippinghall’s thoughts and opinions lie in that direction, for I have heard from Herbert—­”

“Ah, the son of the wool-stapler.  Hark you, Harry, this is a time when we must all take sides for or against the king.  Hitherto I have permitted your acquaintance with the wool-stapler’s son, though, in truth, he be by birth no fit companion for you.  But times have changed now.  The sword is going to be drawn, and friends of the king can no longer be grip hands with friends of the Commons.  Did my own brother draw sword for Parliament, we would never speak again.  Dost hear?”