"So, lad," said he, after a moment, thrusting me a little back by the
shoulders (while I could only sob), and holding me so that the sun
fell full on me, "Dost truly love me so much?"
"Clivver boy, clivver boy!" said the voice of Billy Priske.
"Lord, now, what things they do teach here beside the Latin!"
The rogue said it, as I knew, to turn my father's suspicion, having
himself taught me the poacher's trick. But my uncle Gervase, whose
mind moved as slowly as it was easily diverted, answered with
gravity--
"It is hard knowing what may or may not be useful in after life,
seeing that God in His wisdom hides what that life is to be."
"Very true," agreed my father, with a twinkle, and took snuff.
"But--but what brings you here?" cried I, with a catch of the breath,
ignoring all this.
"Nevertheless, such comely lads as they be," my uncle continued,
"God will doubtless bring them to good. Comelier lads, brother, I
never saw, nor, I think, the sun never shined on; yet there was one,
at the bowls yonder, was swearing so it grieved me to the heart."
"Put on your clothes, boy," said my father, answering me.
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