A table was spread for breakfast, near a window looking out upon the lawn, and two covers only were laid, for Mistress Nicholas Assheton did not make her appearance at this early hour.  And now was exhibited one of those strange contradictions of which the squire’s character was composed.  Kneeling down by the side of the table, and without noticing the mocking expression of Fogg’s countenance as he followed his example, Nicholas prayed loudly and fervently for upwards of ten minutes, after which he arose and gave a shout which proved that his lungs were unimpaired, and not only roused the whole house, but set all the dogs barking.

Presently a couple of serving-men answered this lusty summons, and the table was covered with good and substantial dishes, which he and his companion attacked with a vigour such as only the most valiant trencherman can display.  Already has it been remarked that a breakfast at the period in question resembled a modern dinner; and better proof could not have been afforded of the correctness of the description than the meal under discussion, which comprised fish, flesh, and fowl, boiled, broiled, and roast, together with strong ale and sack.  After an hour thus agreeably employed, and while they were still seated, though breakfast had pretty nearly come to an end, a serving-man entered, announcing Master Richard Sherborne of Dunnow.  The squire instantly sprang to his feet, and hastened to welcome his brother-in-law.

“Ah! good-day to you, Dick,” he cried, shaking him heartily by the hand; “what happy chance brings you here so early?  But first sit down and eat—­eat, and talk afterwards.  Here, Roger, Harry, bring another platter and napkin, and let us have more broiled trout and a cold capon, a pasty, or whatever you can find in the larder.  Try some of this gammon meanwhile, Dick.  It will help down a can of ale.  And now what brings thee hither, lad?  Pressing business, no doubt.  Thou mayest speak before Fogg.  I have no secrets from him.  He is my second self.”

“I have no secrets to divulge, Nicholas,” replied Sherborne, “and I will tell you at once what I am come about.  Have you heard that the King is about to visit Hoghton Tower in August?”

“No; this is news to me,” replied Nicholas; “does your business relate to his visit?”

“It does,” replied Sherborne.  “Last night a messenger came to me from Sir Richard Hoghton, entreating me to move you to do him the favour and courtesy to attend him at the King’s coming, and wear his livery.”

“I wear his livery!” exclaimed Nicholas, indignantly. “’Sdeath! what do you take me for, cousin Dick?”