“And how were all at Booth’s Edge?” asked Mr. Audrey, when all had pulled off their boots in country fashion, and were sitting each with his glass beside him. (Through the door behind came the clamour of the farm-men and the keepers of the chase and the servants, over their food.)

“I saw Marjorie only, sir,” said the boy.  “Mr. Manners was in Derby, and Mrs. Manners had a megrim.”

“Mrs. Manners is ageing swifter than her husband,” observed Anthony.

There seemed a constraint upon the company this evening.  Robin spoke of his ride, of things which he had seen upon it, of a wood that should be thinned next year; and Anthony made a quip or two such as he was accustomed to make; but the master sat silent for the most part, speaking to the lads once or twice for civility’s sake, but no more.  And presently silences began to fall, that were very unusual things in Mr. Anthony’s company, for he had a quick and a gay wit, and talked enough for five.  Robin knew very well what was the matter; it was what lay upon his own heart as heavy as lead; but he was sorry that the signs of it should be so evident, and wondered what he should say to his friend Anthony when the time came for telling; since Anthony was as ardent for the old Faith as any in the land.  It was a bitter time, this, for the old families that served God as their fathers had, and desired to serve their prince too; for, now and again, the rumour would go abroad that another house had fallen, and another name gone from the old roll.  And what would Anthony Babington say, thought the lad, when he heard that Mr. Audrey, who had been so hot and persevered so long, must be added to these?

And then, on a sudden, Anthony himself opened on a matter that was at least cognate.

“I was hearing to-day from Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert that his uncle would be let out again of the Fleet soon to collect his fines.”

He spoke bitterly; and, indeed, there was reason; for not only were the recusants (as the Catholics were named) put in prison for their faith, but fined for it as well, and let out of prison to raise money for this, by selling their farms or estates.

“He will go to Norbury?” asked Robin.

“He will come to Padley, too, it is thought.  Her Grace must have her money for her ships and her men, and for her pursuivants to catch us all with; and it is we that must pay.  Shall you sell again this year, sir?”

Mr. Audrey shook his head, pursing up his lips and staring upon the fire.

“I can sell no more,” he said.

Then an agony seized upon Robin lest his father should say all that was in his mind.  He knew it must be said; yet he feared its saying, and with a quick wit he spoke of that which he knew would divert his friend.

“And the Queen of the Scots,” he said.  “Have you heard more of her?”