e
word of command had lifted their glittering points to the "ready,"
Sholto MacKim stopped dead where he was, with a sort of gasp in his
throat, like one who finds his defenceless body breast high against
the line of hostile steel.

"The purple velvet!" came the cautious whisper from behind. But the
taunt was powerless now.

The smith held his son a moment with his eyes.

"Well?" came in the deep low voice, more like the lowest tones of an
organ than the speech of a man.

Sholto stood fixed, then half turning on his heel he began to walk
towards the corner of the dwelling-house, over which a gay streamer of
the early creeping convolvulus danced and swung in the stirring of the
light breeze.

"You wish speech with me?" said his father, in the same level and
thrilling undertone.

"No," said Sholto, hesitant in spite of himself, "but I thought--that
is I desired--saw you my sister Magdalen pass this way? I have
somewhat to give her."

"Ah, so," said Brawny Kim, without moving, "a steel breastplate,
belike. Thou hast the brace-buckle in thy hand. Doth the little
Magdalen go with you to the weapon-show to-morrow?"

"No, father," said Sholto, stammering, "but I was uneasy for the
child. It is full an hour since I heard her voice."

"Then," said his father, "finish your work, put out the fire, and go
seek your sister."

Sholto brought his hands together and made the little inclination of
the head which was a sign of filial respect. Then, solemn as if he had
been in his place in the ordered line of the Earl's first levy of
archer men, he turned him about and went back to the smithy.

Laurence lay all abroad on the heap of charcoal of which the
armourer's welding fire was made. He was fairly expiring with
laughter, and when his brother angrily kicked him in the ribs, he only
waggled an ineffectual hand and feebly crowed in his throat like a
cock, in his efforts to stifle the sounds of mirth.

"Get up, fool," hissed his angry brother; "help me with this accursed
hammer-striking, or I will make an end of such a giggling lout as you.
Here, hold up."

And seizing his younger brother by the collar of his blue working
blouse, he dragged him upon his feet.

"Now, by the saints," said Sholto, "if you cast your gibes upon me,
by Saint Andrew I will break every bone in your idiot's body."

"The purple velvet--oh, the purple velvet!" gasped Laurence, as soon
as he could recover speech, "and the eyes of Maud Lindesay!"