church-warden's at his hundredth burial.

The wine added further zest to the merry-making and the desire for
sport.

"Now, fair huswife," continued Charles, his thoughts reverting to Adair,
"set forth the dish, that we may carve it to our liking. 'Tis a dainty
bit,--lace, velvet and ruffles."

"Heyday, Sire," responded Nell, evasively, "the larder's empty."

"Devil on't," cried Charles, ferociously; "no mincing, wench. In the
confusion of the ball, the bird escaped my guard by magic. We know
whither the flight."

The King assumed a knowing look.

"Escaped the guard?" gasped Nell, in great surprise. "Alas, I trow some
petticoat has hid him then."

"I'll stake my life upon't," observed James, who had not been heard from
in some time but who had been observing the scene with decorous dignity.

"Sire, you would not injure Adair," pleaded Nell, now alert, with all
her arts of fascination. "You are too generous. Blue eyes of heaven, and
such a smile! Did you mark that young Irishman's smile, Sire?"

Her impudence was so bewitching that the King scarce knew whether it
were jest or earnest. He sprang to his feet from the couch, where he had
thrown himself after the toast to Nell, and, with some forcefulness,
exclaimed:

"Odsfish, this to my teeth, rogue! Guard the doors, gallants; we'd gaze
upon this paragon."

"And set him pirouetting, Sire," sardonically suggested James.

"Yea, to the tune of these fiddle-sticks," laughed Charles, as he
unsheathed his rapier. "Search from tile to rafter."

"Aye, aye," echoed the omnipresent Rochester, "from cellar to garret."

Before, however, the command could be obeyed, even in resolution, Nell
moved uneasily to a curtain which hung in the corner of the room and
placed herself before it, as if to shield a hidden man.

"Sire," she pleaded fearfully, "spare him, Sire; for my sake, Sire. He
is not to blame for loving me. He cannot help it. You know that, Sire!"

"Can he really be here?" muttered Charles, with clouding visage. "Saucy
wench! Hey! My blood is charging full-tilt through my veins. Odsfish,
we'll try his mettle once again."

"Prythee, Sire," begged Nell, "he is too noble and brave and handsome to
die. I love his very image."

"Oh, ho!" cried Charles. "A silken blind for the silken bird! Hey, St.
George for merry England! Come forth, thou picture of cowardice, thou
vile slanderer."

He grasped Nell by the wrist and fairly dragged her across the room.
Then, rus