ich was requisite as
showing them accepted of the Duke of York's company, but as George and
his follower had never submitted to wear it, he was somewhat surprised
to find the gray blossom prominent in George's steel-guarded cap, and to
hear him saying--

'Don it, Ringan, as thou wouldst obey me.'

'His father's son is not his own father,' said Ringan sulkily.

'Then tak' thy choice of wearing it, or winning hame as thou canst--most
like hanging on the nearest oak.'

'And I'd gey liefer than demean myself in the Drummond thyme!' replied
Ringan, half turning away. 'But then what would come of Gray Meg wi'
only the Master to see till her,' muttered he, caressing the mare's
neck. 'Weel, aweel, sir'--and he held out his hand for the despised
spray.

'Is yon thy wild callant, Geordie?' said David in some surprise, for
Ringan was not only provided with a pony, but his thatch of tow-like
hair had been trimmed and covered with a barret cap, and his leathern
coat and leggings were like those of the other horse-boys.

'Ay,' said George, 'this is no place to be ower kenspeckle.'

'I was coming to ask,' said David, 'if thou wouldst not own thyself to
my father, and take thy proper place ere ganging farther south. It irks
me to see some of the best blood in Scotland among the grooms.'

'It must irk thee still, Davie,' returned George. 'These English folk
might not thole to see my father's son in their hands without winning
something out of him, and I saw by what passed the other day that thou
and thy father would stand by me, hap what hap, and I'll never embroil
him and peril the lady by my freak.'

'My father kens pretty well wha is riding in his companie,' said David.

'Ay, but he is not bound to ken.'

'And thou winna write to the Yerl, as ye said ye would when ye were ower
the Border? There's a clerk o' the Bishop of Durham ganging back, and
my father is writing letters that he will send forward to the King, and
thou couldst get a scart o' the pen to thy father.'

'And what wad be thought of a puir man-at-arms sending letters to
the Yerl?' said George. 'Na, na; I may write when we win to France,
a friendly land, but while we are in England, the loons shall make
naething out of my father's son.'

'Weel, gang thine ain gait, and an unco strange one it is,' said David.
'I marvel what thou count'st on gaining by it!'

'The sicht of her at least,' said George. 'Nay, she needed a stout hand
once, she may need it again.