“Surely, boy, that is an ill-considered speech,” said she, “or thou dost deem us very poor, or most exceeding stingy!” Nick hung his head, for the walls seemed tapestried with staring eyes.  “Or else this home of thine must be a very famous place.”

The maids of honour tittered.  Further off somebody laughed.  Nick looked up, and squared his shoulders.

They had rubbed the cat the wrong way.

It is hard to be a stranger in a palace, young, country-bred, and laughed at all at once; but down in Nick Attwood’s heart was a stubborn streak that all the flattery on earth could not cajole nor ridicule efface.  He might be simple, shy, and slow, but what he loved he loved:  that much he knew; and when they laughed at him for loving home they seemed to mock not him, but home—­and that touched the fighting-spot.

“I would rather be there than here,” said he.

The Queen’s face flushed.  “Thou art more curt than courteous,” said she.  “Is it not good enough for thee here?”

“I could na live in such a place.”

The Queen’s eyes snapped.  “In such a place?  Marry, art thou so choice?  These others find no fault with the life.”

“Then they be born to it,” said Nick, “or they could abide no more than I—­they would na fit.”

“Haw, haw!” said the Lord High Constable.

The Queen shot one quick glance at him.  “Old pegs have been made to fit new holes before to-day,” said she; “and the trick can be done again.”  The Constable smothered the rest of that laugh in his hand, “But come, boy, speak up; what hath put thee so out of conceit with our best-beloved palace?”

“There is na one thing likes me here.  I can na bide in a place so fine, for there’s not so much as a corner in it feels like home.  I could na sleep in the bed last night.”

“What, how?  We commanded good beds!” exclaimed Elizabeth, angrily, for the Venetian ambassador was smiling in his beard.  “This shall be seen to.”

“Oh, it was a good bed—­a very good bed indeed, your Majesty!” cried Nick.  “But the mattress puffed up like a cloud in a bag, and almost smothered me; and it was so soft and so hot that it gave me a fever.”

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and laughed.  The Lord High Constable hastily finished the laugh that he had hidden in his hand.  Everybody laughed.  “Upon my word,” said the Queen, “it is an odd skylark cannot sleep in feathers!  What didst thou do, forsooth?”

“I slept in the coverlid on the floor,” said Nick.  “It was na hurt,—­I dusted the place well,—­and I slept like a top.”

“Now verily,” laughed Elizabeth, “if it be floors that thou dost desire, we have acres to spare—­thou shalt have thy pick of the lot.  Come, we are ill used to begging people to be favored—­thou’lt stay?”

Nick shook his head.

“Ma foi!" exclaimed the Queen, “it is a queer fancy makes a face at such a pleasant dwelling!  What is it sticks in thy throat?”