d father say that if the
king went on much longer as he's going on now, there might be war."

"Who with--France?"

"No; a civil war."

"What Englishmen against Englishmen! They couldn't."

"But they did in the Wars of the Roses."

"Ah, that was when people knew no better, and there were different kings
wanted to reign! Such things never could occur again."

"I hope not."

"There! this is where the entrance must be."

The two lads had reached the edge of the lake now, and began once more
to search along the most likely spots where the rocky banks were
perpendicular and high, and covered with ivy and overhanging trees.

But it was labour in vain, and at last, as the afternoon grew late, they
sat down on a piece of slaty rock in the hot sunshine, swinging their
legs over the side, gazing out at the bright waters of the lake.

"I don't care," cried Fred, pettishly; "I'm tired of it. I don't mind
now whether there's a way in or a way out. It's of no use, and I'm
hungry. I shall go home now."

"No; stop and have supper with us."

"Very well. I don't mind; only let's go."

The two boys went straight up to the Hall, passing Nat on the way, ready
to exchange a salute and a grin.

"What are you laughing at, Nat?" cried Fred.

"Only at you two, sir. You've been up to some mischief, I know."

The boys exchanged hasty glances, which, being interpreted, meant, "Has
he been watching us?"

"I always knows," said Nat, with a chuckle.

"No, you don't," cried Fred. "You're just like our Samson."

"So would you be, Master Fred, if you was a twin."

"I did not mean that. I meant being so precious cunning and sure about
everything when you don't know anything at all."

"Ah, don't I, sir! Ha, ha, ha! I could tell Sir Godfrey a deal more
than you think for."

"Yes, you'd better," cried Fred. "You do, that's all, and I'll go home
and lead Samson such a life."

"Wish you would, sir, for he deserves it. A nasty, stuck-up, obstint
fellow as never was. I never meet him without he wants to quarrel with
me and fight. Thinks he's the strongest man there is, and that he can
do anything. And talk about a temper!"

"Shan't," cried Fred. "What do we want to talk about tempers for? Our
Samson has got as good a temper as you have."

"Nay, nay, Master Fred; now that aren't a bit true. And I beg your
pardon, sir: our Sampson's father was my father."

"Oh yes! and his mother was your mother. That's what you