“Ay, ay, lad; thou shalt have the money.  I’ve got fifty pounds for next quarter’s rent.  Colonel Holliday will be glad enough for some of it to go to his grandson.  I’ll gin ye half o’t, Hugh, and take my chance of the colonel agreeing to it.  I’ll give’e as much more out of my old stocking upstairs.  Put it carefully by, lad.  Money is as useful in war as at other times, and pay ain’t always regular; maybe the time may come when the young master may be short of money, and it may come in useful.  Now put on thy riding coat; and mother will put thy best clothes in a valise.

“Bustle up, mother, there bain’t no time to lose.”

Thus addressed, Mrs. Parsons dried her tears and hurried away.  Hugh, hitching the bridle over a hook, made his way to his room to change his clothes.  When he came down, all was ready.

“Thy clothes are in the valise, Hugh.  I have put on the holsters, and the pistols are in them.  They are loaded, boy.  In the bottom of one are the master’s twenty-five pounds.  Thy own money is in the valise.  Here, boy, is my father’s sword; it hasn’t been used since Naseby, but it’s a good blade.  Thou art a deft hand at quarterstaff and singlestick, though, and I doubt not that thy hands can guard thy head.  I need not say, Hugh Parsons, you will, if need be, die for thy master, for I know thou will do it, lad.  Now kiss thy mother, boy; and God speed you.”

A long embrace with his father and mother, and then Hugh, blinded by his tears, mounted his horse, and rode off in the track of Rupert.

After an hour’s sharp riding he overtook him, at a wayside inn, just across the boundary between Derby and Leicestershire.

“Is it all right, Hugh?” he asked, as Hugh drew up at the door.

“All right, Master Rupert.  Father has sent thee twenty-five pounds out of the rent that will be due at Lady day; and he doubts not that the colonel will approve of what he has done.  H ow long have you been here?”

“Only some five minutes, Hugh.  We had best let the horses feed, and then ride quietly into Leicester, it’s only fifteen miles away.  I see you’ve got a sword.”

“A sword and pistols, Master Rupert; and as you have the same, methinks any highwayman chaps we might meet would think twice ere they venture to cry ‘Stand and deliver.’”

“You heard no word of whether James Brownlow was alive or dead, Hugh?  I should be very glad to hear that he is not killed.”

“No word of the matter had come to the farm when I came away,” Hugh said; “but I should not worry about it one way or the other, Master Rupert.  You’ll kill lots more when you get to the wars; and the country won’t grieve over James Brownlow.  Young as he was, he was a bad one; I’ve heard more than one dark story whispered of him.  Folks say he took after his father, who was as wild and as bad as any man in Derbyshire when he was young.”

Chapter 4:  The Sedan Chair.