nal had sunk and died on his way to London
for trial; and at last, one dark winter evening, a sorrowful man
stumbled up the steps of the Dragon, and as he came into the bright
light of the fire, and Perronel sprang to meet him, he sank into a chair
and wept aloud.

He had been one of those who had lifted the brokenhearted Wolsey from
his mule in the cloister of Leicester Abbey, he had carried him to his
bed, watched over him, and supported him, as the Abbot of Leicester gave
him the last Sacraments. He had heard and treasured up those mournful
words which are Wolsey's chief legacy to the world, "Had I but served my
God, as I have served my king, He would not have forsaken me in my old
age." For himself, he had the dying man's blessing, and assurance that
nothing had so much availed to cheer in these sad hours as his faithful
love.

Now, Perronel might do what she would with him--he cared not.

And what she did was to set forth with him for Hampshire, on a pair of
stout mules with a strong serving-man behind them.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE SOLDIER.

"Of a worthy London prentice
My purpose is to speak,
And tell his brave adventures
Done for his country's sake.
Seek all the world about
And you shall hardly find
A man in valour to exceed
A prentice' gallant mind."
_The Homes of a London Prentice_.

Six more years had passed over the Dragon court, when, one fine summer
evening, as the old walls rang with the merriment of the young boys at
play, there entered through the gateway a tall, well-equipped, soldierly
figure, which caught the eyes of the little armourer world in a moment.
"Oh, that's a real Milan helmet!" exclaimed the one lad.

"And oh, what a belt and buff coat!" cried another.

The subject of their admiration advanced muttering, "As if I'd not been
away a week," adding, "I pray you, pretty lads, doth Master Alderman
Headley still dwell here?"

"Yea, sir, he is our grandfather," said the elder boy, holding a lesser
one by the shoulder as he spoke.

"Verily! And what may be your names?"

"I am Giles Birkenholt, and this is my little brother, Dick."

"Even as I thought. Wilt thou run in to your grandsire, and tell him?"

The bigger boy interrupted, "Grandfather is going to bed. He is old and
weary, and cannot see strangers so late. 'Tis our father who heareth
all the orders."

"And," added the little one, with wide-open grave eyes, "Mother bade us
run out and play