have been a pagan custom once," said Sir Christopher; "and the
same may be said of preaching from a pulpit; but all depends on the way
of it, and not on the thing itself. As to dancing, it is an old custom
enough; there is Scripture warrant for it perhaps, and it comes
naturally to all young creatures. I'll be bound, now, that our Dick and
his little cousin Cicely are at this moment getting the steps of the
gavotte or the other gambadoes that have come to us from France and
Spain, that they may figure before the company to-morrow."

"That are they!" said the dame laughing, as a servant opened the door,
and each of Sir Christopher's friends gave a hand to a lady to lead them
down to supper. "Hark! don't you hear my kinswoman's lute? Poor, kind
Dorothy, she will play to them for the hour long, and likes nothing
better. I can hear their little feet pit-a-patting; and Dick would
insist on putting on his new fine suit, all brave with Spanish point and
ribbon velvet, and the boy has buckled on a sword, too, while the little
puss, Cicely, not to be backward, is all a prop with a stiff petticoat
and a brocaded fardingale, and has on her little silk cap with the
pearls, just as I have heard the fashion is among the Queen's French
ladies of honour. Hark! there they go, tum-tum-ty, tum-twenty-tum,
tum-twenty-tum! Bless their little hearts!"

The sour-faced man made a grimace; for his wife was just before him, and
he could see her feet moving in time to the music as they all went down
into the great hall laughing and talking; nor did the sound of the music
cease till it was shut out by the closing of the door after they had sat
down to supper; and even then it came upon them in gushes of melody
every time a servant opened the door, to bring in another dish or a
flagon of ale or of wine.

They heard it when, supper being nearly over, the butler came in softly
and whispered to Sir Christopher, who, asking them to excuse him for a
moment, went out into the hall.

A horseman was standing there, booted and spurred, and with his riding
whip in his hand, and his steed was snorting, and scraping the ground
outside.

"Do you know me again, Sir Christopher?" said the man, in a low voice.

"Let me bring you to the light," muttered the knight, leading him to the
porch where there was a lantern hanging. "To be sure. I have seen you up
at Whitehall and at Oxford, too, and are not likely to forget His
Majesty's Groom of the Chambers. How fa