long narrow table. Lady Whitburn sat beside the Earl, Sir William
Copeland by the Countess, watching with pleasure how deftly his son
ran about among the pages, carrying the trenchers of food, and the
cups. He entered on a conversation with the Countess, telling her of
the King's interest and delight in his beautiful freshly-founded
Colleges at Eton and Cambridge, how the King rode down whenever he
could to see the boys, listen to them at their tasks in the
cloisters, watch them at their sports in the playing fields, and join
in their devotions in the Chapel--a most holy example for them.

"Ay, for such as seek to be monks and shavelings," broke in the North
Country voice sarcastically.

"There are others--sons of gentlemen and esquires--lodged in houses
around," said Sir William, "who are not meant for cowl or for mass-
priests."

"Yea, forsooth," called Lady Whitburn across the Earl and the
Countess, "what for but to make them as feckless as the priests,
unfit to handle lance or sword!"

"So, lady, you think that the same hand cannot wield pen and lance,"
said the Earl.

"I should like to see one of your clerks on a Border foray," laughed
the Dame of Dacre. "'Tis all a device of the Frenchwoman!"

"Verily?" said the Earl, in an interrogative tone.

"Ay, to take away the strength and might of Englishmen with this