The King’s manner indicated that the conference was at an end.  He wished to get rid of the Rector, not only because the good man was “boring” him, as would be said now-a-days, but because he had but little trust in Tom Elliot’s discretion, and thought that at any moment the page might be led to break forth from what must needs be an irksome confinement.  Moreover, the King knew that, sooner or later, he would have to undergo a more serious lecture from some of his councillors, and it was an object with him to make some inquiries in confidential quarters and devise a course of speech if not of action.

But the worthy Rector was, as he said, unversed in the ways of the great; and the young King’s affable manner had drawn him into forgetfulness of any little lessons of etiquette that he might have ever learned.  Instead of departing on the King’s hint, he let his tongue wag afresh.

“Alack, Sir! may your Majesty’s prayers be heard.  And may what I have done breed myself no harm!  For what saith the Wise Man?  ’Burden not thyself above thy power while thou livest, and have no fellowship with one that is mightier than thyself:  for how agree the kettle and earthen pot together?’”

“It was well said of the Wise Man,” observed the King demurely.  “And your Reverence will do well to consider the words that follow, if my memory do not deceive me;—­’If thou be invited of a great man, withdraw thyself!’”

The underlined words, being pronounced with a voice changed to a sharp and sudden tone from the solemn snuffle into which the King had slid in first quoting Ecclesiasticus, were too much for Elliot, who broke into an irrepressible giggle behind the bureau.  Mr. La Cloche started at the sound; then, recollecting himself, retired with a bow into which he threw a look of surprise not unmixed with silent reproach.

Still laughing, the page emerged from his ambush, knocking the dust from his doublet with his hand, and eyeing the door as it closed after the retreating Rector.

“I’ll wager he thinks thou wert a wench, Tom,” cried Charles; “but tell me, how much of the worthy parson’s discourse didst thou hear?”

“As much as you desire, Sir, and no more,” was the discreet reply.  “But it is true that one is come from France who knows Lord Jermyn.”

“Jermyn,” said the King, half soliloquising, “is a son of a——­; and I would as lief run him through the body as I would open an oyster.  But that is neither here nor there; such pleasures are not for Kings.”  He sate thinking for a few minutes, and then, looking up, added, “Go, Tom, and tell Nicholas and the rest that I would see them here.”

The page departed, presently returning to introduce four gentlemen, after which, he again left the room and shut the door, which it would be his office to keep against all intrusion while the conference lasted.