sed boar has rent his goodly face so
as I would never have known him. Poor Steve! Rest his soul!"

The old man began to weep, while his nephews recollected that they had
heard that another uncle had been slain by the tusk of a wild boar in
early manhood. Then to their surprise, his eyes fell on Spring, and
calling the hound by name, he caressed the creature's head--"Spring,
poor Spring! Stevie's faithful old dog. Hast lost thy master? Wilt
follow me now?"

He was thinking of a Spring as well as of a Stevie of sixty years ago,
and he babbled on of how many fawns were in the Queen's Bower this
summer, and who had best shot at the butts at Lyndhurst, as if he were
excited by the breath of his native Forest, but there was no making him
understand that he was speaking with his nephews. The name of his
brother John only set him repeating that John loved the greenwood, and
would be content to take poor Stevie's place and dwell in the verdurer's
lodge; but that he himself ought to be abroad, he had seen brave Lord
Talbot's ships ready at Southampton, John might stay at home, but he
would win fame and honour in Gascony.

And while he thus wandered, and the boys stood by perplexed and
distressed, Brother Segrim came back, and said, "So, young sirs, have
you seen enough of your doting kinsman? The sub-prior bids me say that
we harbour no strange, idling, lubber lads nor strange dogs here. 'Tis
enough for us to be saddled with dissolute old men-at-arms without all
their idle kin making an excuse to come and pay their devoirs. These
corrodies are a heavy charge and a weighty abuse, and if there be the
visitation the king's majesty speaks of they will be one of the first
matters to be amended."

Wherewith Stephen and Ambrose found themselves walked out of the
cloister of Saint Grimbald, and the gates shut behind them.

CHAPTER THREE.

KINSMEN AND STRANGERS.

"The reul of Saint Maure and of Saint Beneit
Because that it was old and some deale streit
This ilke monk let old things pace
He held ever of the new world the trace."
Chaucer.

"The churls!" exclaimed Stephen.

"Poor old man!" said Ambrose; "I hope they are good to him!"

"To think that thus ends all that once was gallant talk of fighting
under Talbot's banner," sighed Stephen, thoughtful for a moment.
"However, there's a good deal to come first."

"Yea, and what next?" said the elder brother.

"On to uncle Hal. I ever looked most to him