unfortunate.

"Condall or Tyndal, it is all one," replied Sir Daniel, coolly.

"For, by my sooth, y' are here and I do mightily suspect your

honesty. If ye would save your neck, write me swiftly an

obligation for twenty pound."

"For twenty pound, my good lord!" cried Condall. "Here is

midsummer madness! My whole estate amounteth not to seventy

shillings."

"Condall or Tyndal," returned Sir Daniel, grinning, "I will run my

peril of that loss. Write me down twenty, and when I have

recovered all I may, I will be good lord to you, and pardon you the

rest."

"Alas! my good lord, it may not be; I have no skill to write," said

Condall.

"Well-a-day!" returned the knight. "Here, then, is no remedy. Yet

I would fain have spared you, Tyndal, had my conscience suffered.

Selden, take me this old shrew softly to the nearest elm, and hang

me him tenderly by the neck, where I may see him at my riding.

Fare ye well, good Master Condall, dear Master Tyndal; y' are post-

haste for Paradise; fare ye then well!"

"Nay, my right pleasant lord," replied Condall, forcing an

obsequious smile, "an ye be so masterful, as doth right well become

you, I will even, with all my poor skill, do your good bidding."

"Friend," quoth Sir Daniel, "ye will now write two score. Go to!

y' are too cunning for a livelihood of seventy shillings. Selden,

see him write me this in good form, and have it duly witnessed."

And Sir Daniel, who was a very merry knight, none merrier in

England, took a drink of his mulled ale, and lay back, smiling.

Meanwhile, the boy upon the floor began to stir, and presently sat

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