“A page!” said Humfrey, with infinite contempt—­“to hear all their tales and bickerings, hold skeins of silk, amble mincingly along galleries, be begged to bear messages that may have more in them than one knows, and be noted for a bear if one refuses.”

The father and Cis laughed, the mother looked unhappy.

“So Martin is at Hull, is he ?” said Richard, musingly.  “If my Lord can give me leave for a week or fortnight, methinks I must ride to see the stout old knave.”

“And oh, sweet father! prithee take me with you,” entreated Humfrey, “if it be only to come back again.  I have not seen the sea since we came here, and yet the sound is in my ears as I fall asleep.  I entreat of you to let me come, good my father.”

“And, good father, let me come,” exclaimed Diccon; “I have never even seen the sea!”

“And dear, sweet father, take me,” entreated little Ned.

“Nay,” cried Cis, “what should I do?  Here is Antony Babington borne off to Cambridge, and you all wanting to leave me.”

“I’ll come home better worth than he!” muttered Humfrey, who thought he saw consent on his father’s brow, and drew her aside into the deep window.

“You’ll come back a rude sailor, smelling of pitch and tar, and Antony will be a well-bred, point-device scholar, who will know how to give a lady his hand,” said the teasing girl.

And so the playful war was carried on, while the father, having silenced and dismissed the two younger lads, expressed his intention of obtaining leave of absence, if possible, from the Earl.”

“Yea,” he added to his wife, “I shall even let Humfrey go with me.  It is time he looked beyond the walls of this place, which is little better than a prison.”

“And will you let him go on this strange voyage?” she asked wistfully, “he, our first-born, and our heir.”

“For that, dame, remember his namesake, my poor brother, was the one who stayed at home, I the one to go forth, and here am I now!” The lad’s words may have set before thee weightier perils in yonder park than he is like to meet among seals and bears under honest old Martin.”

“Yet here he has your guidance,” said Susan.

“Who knows how they might play on his honour as to talebearing?  Nay, good wife, when thou hast thought it over, thou wilt see that far fouler shoals and straits lie up yonder, than in the free open sea that God Almighty made.  Martin is a devout and godly man, who hath matins and evensong on board each day when the weather is not too foul, and looks well that there be no ill-doings in his ship; and if he have a berth for thy lad, it will be a better school for him than where two-thirds of the household are raging against one another, and the third ever striving to corrupt and outwit the rest.  I am weary of it all!  Would that I could once get into blue water again, and leave it all behind!”

“You will not!  Oh! you will not!” implored Susan.  “Remember, my dear, good lord, how you said all your duties lay at home.”