im quickly withdraw his cranium again into the shelter.
"Let me in, I say," shouted a voice from below. "You knave, let me in,
I tell you."
The ostler had played his little game, and, having sheltered his
companion, he now anxiously awaited the result. Glancing round to
see that Edmund was completely buried from sight, he dropped upon his
knees, and moving the catch on one side he slowly raised the door.
"You knave! you villain!" exclaimed his irate master, as he stepped
into the room. "Wasting your time in looking at puppet-shows. How dare
you, sir; how dare you? Get you gone, sirrah!" and he gave him a kick
which considerably accelerated the speed with which he disappeared
below.
Having thus satisfactorily vented his displeasure, his brow relaxed
and he turned to the baron and Sir Thomas and conducted them to a seat
so lately vacated by the guilty pair, with an urbanity which looked
positively impossible to ruffle.
"You see, my lord, there is a seat ready provided," he exclaimed, as
he pointed to the bale of hay which stood beside the wall. "Perhaps
your lordships will be pleased to seat yourself on that? I'll warrant
me 'tis clean enough, for I espied the rogue sitting on it."
Sir George Vernon, nothing loth, accepted the proffered seat.
"I will reach another bundle down for you," continued the loquacious
innkeeper, turning to the younger knight. "I will get you one of a
convenient size; most of them are far too big to be comfortable,
I fear, but I have them in all shapes and sizes; you shall be made
comfortable in a trice, my lord."
He cast his eyes about in search of the bundle "of convenient size,"
and his choice fell upon the one which covered the gap where Edmund
Wynne lay hidden. Having once selected this he proceeded straightway
to climb over the impeding bundles to reach it from the corner where
the ostler had tossed it just before.
This, however, proved no slight task. He was burly and heavy, while
the bundles were frail and loosely stacked and failed to yield to his
feet that amount of support which, of all men, the stouter ones are
supposed most to require. This being so, it was not surprising to find
that ere he reached it he stumbled and fell several times, until at
last Sir Thomas took pity upon him and told him to desist.
"I would stand, my good man," he said, "rather than thou should'st
break thy neck, or I might lay upon some of this soft straw for the
nonce."
"A prison bed,"
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