hink
the place looks better?"

"I think my father would be proud of the armoury if he could see the
weapons," said Roy, as he looked round. "Everything is splendid."

The old soldier smiled as he walked from suit to suit of armour, some of
which were obsolete, and could only be looked upon as curiosities of the
day; but, in addition, there were modern pieces of defensive armour,
beautifully made, with carefully cleaned and inlaid headpieces of the
newest kind, and of those the old soldier seemed to be especially proud.
Then he led the way on to the stands of offensive weapons, which
numbered quaint, massive swords of great age, battle-axes, and maces,
and so on to modern weapons of the finest steel, with, guns, petronels,
and horse-pistols of clumsy construction, but considered perfect then.

"Yes, sir, I'm proud of our weepuns," said Ben; "but I aren't a bit
proud of the old castle, which seems to be going right away to ruin."

"That it isn't," cried Roy, indignantly. "It has been repaired and
repaired, whenever it wanted doing up, again and again."

"Ah! you're thinking about roofs and tiles and plaster, my lad. I was
thinking about the defences. Such a place as this used to be. Look at
the gun-carriages,--haven't been painted for years, nor the guns
cleaned."

"Well, mix up some paint and brush it on," said Roy, "and clean up the
guns. They can't be rusty, because they're brass."

"Well, not brass exactly, sir," said the man, thoughtfully. "It's more
of a mixtur' like; but to a man like me, sir, it's heart-breaking."

"What! to see them turn green and like bronze?"

"Oh, I don't mind that so much, sir; it's seeing of 'em come down so
much, like. Why, there's them there big guns as stands in the
court-yard behind the breastwork."

"Garden, Ben."

"Well, garden, sir. Why, there's actooally ivy and other 'nockshus
weeds growing all over 'em."

"Well, it looks peaceful and nice."

"Bah! A gun can't look peaceful and nice. But that aren't the worst of
it, sir. I was along by 'em a bit ago, and, if you'll believe me, when
I put my hand in one, if there warn't a sharp, hissing noise!"

"A snake? Got in there?"

"Snake, sir? No! I wouldn't ha' minded a snake; but there's no snakes
here."

"There was one, Ben, for I brought it up out of the woods, and kept it
in a box for months, till it got away. Then that's where it is."

"Nay. It were no snake, sir. It were one of them little blue and