that he
will not beg from her the boon of colors gay that he may carry them to
victory and receive from her hands a wreath therefor?" Again the Knight
of the Cumberland seemed not to know that the Hon. Sam's winged words
were meant for him, so the statesman translated them into a mutual
vernacular.

"Remember what I told you, son," he said. "Hold up yo' spear here to
some one of these gals jes' like the other fellows are doin'," and as he
sat down he tried surreptitiously to indicate the Blight with his
index finger, but the knight failed to see and the Blight's face was
so indignant and she rebuked him with such a knife-like whisper that,
humbled, the Hon. Sam collapsed in his seat, muttering:

"The fool don't know you--he don't know you."

For the Knight of the Cumberland had turned the black horse's head and
was riding, like Ivanhoe, in front of the nobles and ladies, his eyes
burning up at them through the holes in his white mask. Again he turned,
his mask still uplifted, and the behavior of the beauties there, as on
the field of Ashby, was no whit changed: "Some blushed, some assumed an
air of pride and dignity, some looked straight forward and essayed to
seem utterly unconscious of what was going on, some drew back in alarm
which was perhaps affected, some endeavored to forbear smiling and there
were two or three who laughed outright." Only none "dropped a veil over
her charms" and thus none incurred the suspicion, as on that field of
Ashby, that she was "a beauty of ten years' standing" whose motive,
gallant Sir Walter supposes in defence, however, was doubtless "a
surfeit of such vanities and a willingness to give a fair chance to
the rising beauties of the age." But the most conscious of the fair
was Mollie below, whose face was flushed and whose brown fingers were
nervously twisting the ribbons in her lap, and I saw Buck nudge her and
heard him whisper:

"Dave ain't going to pick YOU out, I tell ye. I heered Mr. Budd thar
myself tell him he HAD to pick out some other gal."

"You hush!" said Mollie indignantly.

It looked as though the Knight of the Cumberland had grown rebellious
and meant to choose whom he pleased, but on his way back the Hon.
Sam must have given more surreptitious signs, for the Knight of the
Cumberland reined in before the Blight and held up his lance to her.
Straightway the colors that were meant for Marston fluttered from the
Knight of the Cumberland's spear. I saw Marston bite hi