he
Crusader with the mace.

The question was put gravely, for, ever since he could walk or do
anything, the boy had amused himself by putting free-and-easy questions
to the suits of armour, or defying them to mortal combat. As he was
true to ancient friendships, he had acquired the habit of giving the
warriors an occasional nod or word of recognition long after he had
ceased to play with them.

"Shades of my ancestors!" exclaimed Harry with sudden animation, gazing
earnestly at the Crusader on his right, "the very thing! I'll do it."

That evening, after tea, he went to his father's study.

"May I sit up in the dining-room to-night, father, till two in the
morning?"

"Well, it will puzzle you to do that to-night, my son; but you may if
you have a good reason."

"My reason is that I have a problem--a very curious problem--to work
out, and as I positively shan't be able to sleep until I've done it, I
may just as well sit up as not."

"Do as you please, Harry; I shall probably be up till that hour myself--
if not later--for unexpected calls on my time have prevented the
preparation of a sermon about which I have had much anxious thought of
late."

"Indeed, father!" remarked the son, in a sympathetic tone, on observing
that the Reverend Theophilus passed his hand somewhat wearily over his
brow. "What may be your text?"

"`Be gentle, showing meekness to all men,'" answered the worthy man,
with an abstracted faraway look, as if he were wrestling in anticipation
with the seventh head.

"Well, good-night, father, and please don't think it necessary to come
in upon me to see how I am getting on. I never can work out a difficult
problem if there is a chance of interruption."

"All right, my son--good-night."

"H'm," thought Harry, as he returned to the dining-room in a meditative
mood; "I am afraid, daddy, that you'll find it hard to be gentle to
_some_ men to-night! However, we shall see."

Ringing the bell, he stood with his back to the fire, gazing at the
ceiling. The summons was answered by the gardener, who also performed
the functions of footman and man-of-all-work at the parsonage.

"Simon, I am going out, and may not be home till late. I want either
you or Robin to sit up for me."

"Very well, sir."

"And," continued the youth, with an air of offhand gravity, "I shall be
obliged to sit up working well into the morning, so you may have a cup
of strong coffee ready for me. Wait until I ring for