“Oh, put those stupid books aside,” exclaimed the prince; “this is your first day in town, and I mean to take a holiday; that surly old Dunstan should have left word to that effect last night.”

“Will he not be here soon?”

“Yes, he is coming this morning, the old bear, to superintend my progress, and I wish him joy thereof.”

“What has he given you to do?” inquired Elfric.

“Why, a wretched exercise to write out.  There, you see it before you; isn’t it a nuisance?”

“It is not very hard, is it?”

“Don’t you think it hard?  See whether you can do it!”

Elfric smiled, and wrote out the simple Latin with ease, for he had been well instructed by Father Cuthbert at Aescendune.

He had scarcely finished when a firm step was heard upon the stairs.

“Hush,” said Edwy; “here comes Dunstan.  Be sure you look solemn enough,” and he composed his own countenance into an expression of preternatural gravity.

The door opened, and an ecclesiastic in the prime of life entered the room, one whose mien impressed the beholder with an indefinable awe.

He was dressed in the Benedictine habit, just then becoming common in England, and his features were those of a man formed by nature to command, while they reconciled the beholder to the admission of the fact by the sad yet sweet smile which frequently played on the shapely countenance.  He was now in the thirtieth year of his age, having been born in the first year of King Athelstane, and had been abbot of Glastonbury for several years, although his services as counsellor to King Edred had led him to spend much of his time in town, and he had therefore accepted the general direction of the education of the heir to the throne.  Such was Dunstan.

He seemed but little welcome to Edwy, and the benediction with which he greeted his pupil was but coldly received.

Not appearing to notice this, he mildly said, “You must introduce your young companion to me, my prince.  Am I not right in concluding that I see before me Elfric, heir to the lands of Aescendune?”

Elfric blushed as he bent the knee to the great churchman to receive the priestly benediction with which he was greeted, but remained silent.

“Father Cuthbert, whom I knew well years agone, has told me about you, and your brother Alfred; is not that his name?”

“He is so named, my father.”

“I am glad to perceive that my royal pupil has chosen so meet a companion, for Father Cuthbert speaks well of your learning.  You write the Latin tongue, he tells me, with some little facility.”

Elfric feared his powers had been overrated.

“I trust you have resumed your studies after your long holiday,” continued Dunstan.  “Youth is the season for sowing, age for reaping.”

“I have had a very bad headache,” said Edwy, “and have only been able to write a page of Latin.  Here it is, father.”