had the amiable habit of keeping
tame bears in his courtyard, which devour a man without the slightest
regard to his official position; or the poor man might stray among the
watch-dogs, and be torn to ribbons. Fortunately, however, on this
occasion a red-liveried menial was lounging about the gate, from whom it
was possible to get a peaceful answer.

"Is the most noble Master Jock up yet?"

"Deuce take it, man! What are you shivering at? Why, he hasn't lain down
yet!"

Mr. Varju trotted on further. He had now to report himself to their
worships at the community-house, which he accomplished without any
beating about the bush by simply saying, "I have done everything."

"It is well, Mr. Varju."

And now let us take a look at these famous men.

In the worshipful community-room, hanging in long rows on the walls,
were the painted effigies of the local and civic celebrities, with room
enough between for the arms of these defunct patrons, baillies,
curators, and charity-founders also. On the table were tomes of
tremendous bulk, pressed down by a large lead inkstand. The floor
beneath the table was nicely covered with ink-blots--it was there that
the pens were usually thrown.

The bell of early dawn was only now beginning to ring, and yet their
worships were already assembled in the room, with their elbows planted
in a circle all round the long table. The judge presided--a worthy,
stout man.

Near the door stood a group of young men in short, strong, baggy
knee-breeches and broad-buttoned pelisse-like dolmans. Every one of them
had a bright kerchief in his button-hole, and spurred boots upon his
feet.

Prominent amongst all the youths stood the Whitsun King of the year
before. He was a tall, lanky stripling, with a large hooked, aquiline
nose, and a long moustache triply twisted at the ends and well stiffened
with wax. His neck was long and prominent and burnt black by the sun
where it was not protected by his shirt. Below his shirt it looked as
though it had been cut out of another skin. His dress was different to
that of the common folks. Instead of linen hose, he wore laced trousers
tucked into boots of Kordovan leather from which long tassels dangled
down. The sparkling copper clasp of his broad girdle was visible beneath
his short silken vest. A bright kerchief peeped out from every pocket of
his dolman, and was tied at one corner to his buttons; and his fingers
were so swollen with hoop and signet-rings that