g upon his
words, and if Sir David had answered in kind, James would doubtless
have thought no more about the matter, but the poet stammered and
showed such evident confusion that his majesty's quick suspicions were
at once aroused. He remembered that of late a change had come over the
court. Scottish nobles were too poor to be lavish in dress, and
frequently the somewhat meagre state of their wardrobe had furnished a
subject for jest on the part of ambassadors from France or Spain. But
when other foreigners less privileged than an ambassador had ventured
to make the same theme one for mirth, they speedily found there was no
joke in Scottish steel, which was ever at an opponent's service, even
if gold were not. So those who were wise and fond of life, became
careful not to make invidious comparisons between the gallants of
Edinburgh and Stirling, and those of Paris and Madrid. But of late the
court at Stirling had blossomed out in fine array, and although this
grandeur had attracted the notice of the king and pleased him, he had
given no thought to the origin of the new splendour.

The king instantly changed his mind regarding his visit to the
cobbler, linked arm with the poet, and together they went up the
street. This sudden reversion of direction gave the royal wanderer a
new theme for thought and surmise. It seemed as if all the town was on
the move, acting as surreptitiously as he himself had done a few
moments previously. At first he imagined he had been followed, and the
suspicion angered him. In the gloom he was unable to recognise any of
the wayfarers, and each seemed anxious to avoid detection, passing
hurriedly or slipping quietly down some less frequented alley or lane.
Certain of the figures appeared familiar, but none stopped to question
the king.

"Davie," cried James, pausing in the middle of the street, "you make a
very poor conspirator."

"Indeed, your majesty," replied the poet earnestly, "no one is less of
a conspirator than I."

"Davie, you are hiding something from me."

"That I am not, your majesty. I am quite ready to answer truly any
question your majesty cares to ask."

"The trouble is, Davie, that my majesty has not yet got a clue which
will lead to shrewd questioning, but as a beginning, I ask you, what
is the meaning of all this court stir in the old town of Stirling?"

"How should I know, your majesty?" asked the poet in evident distress.

"There now, Davie, there now! The very fi