, wondering at the height and
strength of the great ancient fortress. In his air-castle building Myles
had pictured the Earl receiving him as the son of his one-time comrade
in arms--receiving him, perhaps, with somewhat of the rustic warmth that
he knew at Crosbey-Dale; but now, as he stared at those massive walls
from below, and realized his own insignificance and the greatness of
this great Earl, he felt the first keen, helpless ache of homesickness
shoot through his breast, and his heart yearned for Crosbey-Holt again.

Then they thundered across the bridge that spanned the moat, and through
the dark shadows of the great gaping gate-way, and Diccon, bidding him
stay for a moment, rode forward to bespeak the gate-keeper.

The gate-keeper gave the two in charge of one of the men-at-arms who
were lounging upon a bench in the archway, who in turn gave them into
the care of one of the house-servants in the outer court-yard. So,
having been passed from one to another, and having answered many
questions, Myles in due time found himself in the outer waiting-room
sitting beside Diccon Bowman upon a wooden bench that stood along the
wall under the great arch of a glazed window.

For a while the poor country lad sat stupidly bewildered. He was aware
of people coming and going; he was aware of talk and laughter sounding
around him; but he thought of nothing but his aching homesickness and
the oppression of his utter littleness in the busy life of this great
castle.

Meantime old Diccon Bowman was staring about him with huge interest,
every now and then nudging his young master, calling his attention now
to this and now to that, until at last the lad began to awaken somewhat
from his despondency to the things around. Besides those servants and
others who came and went, and a knot of six or eight men-at-arms with
bills and pole-axes, who stood at the farther door-way talking together
in low tones, now and then broken by a stifled laugh, was a group of
four young squires, who lounged upon a bench beside a door-way hidden by
an arras, and upon them Myles's eyes lit with a sudden interest. Three
of the four were about his own age, one was a year or two older, and
all four were dressed in the black-and-yellow uniform of the house of
Beaumont.

Myles plucked the bowman by the sleeve. "Be they squires, Diccon?" said
he, nodding towards the door.

"Eh?" said Diccon. "Aye; they be squires."

"And will my station be with them?" as