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"Ah!" cried the new-comer. "I am very sorry. You are wounded?"
"No; I was in a bit of a fight with a man on horseback."
"You were? I wish I had been there!" cried the new-comer eagerly.
"Well? did you beat him?"
"I think so. He ran away. But I had my arm nearly wrenched out of the socket."
"That's bad. You have had it seen to by a doctor, of course?"
"Oh no. It will get well. But who are you?"
"Oh, I'm Sir John Carrbroke's son Edward; but he always calls me Ned. I was so tired last night and slept so soundly that I didn't hear you and your friends come. Father woke me a little while ago and told me to come and see you and welcome you to the Pines. Glad to see you. You've just come from France, haven't you? But I needn't ask," continued the boy, smiling. "Anyone would know you were French."
Denis flushed a little.
"Of course I can't talk English like you," he said pettishly. "But you said something about breakfast."
"Yes. It will be all waiting by the time you are dressed."
"Then would you mind going--and--"
"Oh yes, of course; I'll go. Only I wanted to see our new visitor, and--but you said your arm was all wrenched."
"Yes. I have only a misty notion about how I managed to undress."
"Of course. It must have been very hard. Here, I'll stop and help you."
Denis protested, but the frank outspoken lad would not hear a word.
"Nonsense," he said. "I shall help you. I know how. I am a sort of gentleman in waiting at the Court."
"Indeed!" cried Denis, looking at him wonderingly.
"Oh yes. I haven't been there long. My father used to be just the same with the late King, and that made him able to get me there. It's only the other day that I left the great school--a year ago, though; and now," he added, laughing, "I am going to be somebody big--King Harry's esquire--the youngest one there. I say, isn't it a nuisance to be only a boy?"
"Oh no," said Denis, laughing, and quite taken by the friendly chatter of his new acquaintance. "One wants to grow up, of course; but I don't know that I ever felt like that."
"Perhaps not," said his companion, busily helping him with his garments; "but then you see you're not at Court where there are a lot of fellows who have been there for a bit, ready to look down upon you just because you're new, and glare at you and seem ready to pick a quarrel and to fight if ever the King gives you a friendly nod or a smile.--No, no: I'll tie those points. Don't hurt your arm--but wait a bit.--I am young and inexperienced yet, and they're too much for me, but I am hard at it."
He ceased speaking, but stood with his mouth pursed up, frowning, as he tied the points in question.
"I see you are," said Denis, "playing servant to me; and it's very good of you, for my arm does feel very bad."
"Good! Nonsense!" cried the lad merrily. "You'd do the same for me if I were visiting at your father's house, and crippled."
"That couldn't be," said Denis sadly. "I have no father's house--he's dead."
"Oh, I am sorry!"
"He was a soldier, and died fighting for the King."
"Hah!" said the other softly. "That's very pitiful; but," he added, with more animation, "it is very grand as well.--No, no, no: be quiet!
I'm here, and what's the good of making your arm worse? You're a visitor; and you wouldn't like me to go away and send one of our fellows. I shall be a knight some day, I hope; and it's a knight's duty to fight, of course, but he ought to be able to help a wounded man. Now you're a wounded man and I'm going to help you, wash you and all, and I say, you want it too. You look as if you had been down in the dust.
And what's this? Why, there's clay matted in the back of your neck!"
"Well," said Denis, smiling, "I am such a cripple I can't help myself, and so I must submit."
"Of course you must. I'll feed you too, if you like, by-and-by."
"But what did you mean," said Denis, to change the conversation, as he smilingly yielded himself to the busy helpful hands of his new friend.
"What did I mean? Why, to help you."
"No, no; I meant about those fellows riding roughshod over you and wanting to pick quarrels."
"Oh, I see. I meant, I'm waiting my time. Can you fence--use a sword well?"
"Not very, but I'm practising hard."
"Are you? So am I. We've got a French _maitre d'armes_ at Court, and he's helping me and teaching me all he knows. He's splendid! He likes me because I work so hand, and pats me on the back, and calls me 'grand garcon' and dear pupil. Ah, he's a wonder. Only he makes me feel so stupid. He's like one of those magician fellows when you cross swords with him. Yes, it's just like magic; for when he likes he can make his long thin blade twist and twine about yours as if it were a snake and all alive; and before you know where you are it tightens round, and then _twit, tw.a.n.g_, yours is s.n.a.t.c.hed out of your hand and gone flying across the room, making you feel as helpless as a child. Ah, you don't know what it is to feel like that. I say, hold still. How am I to wipe you?
That's better."
"But I do know what it is to feel like that," cried Denis, as soon as he could get his face free from the white linen cloth his new friend was handling with great dexterity.
"You do?" cried the latter. "What, have you got a _maitre d'armes_ over where you came from?"
"Yes, and he's here in this house now. You should have seen him in a desperate fight we had last night against about a score--"
"Of the road outlaws coming through the forest?"
"Yes, and they attacked us."
"And you got away."
Denis nodded.
"My word! You were lucky!"
"It was through my fencing master," said Denis warmly, as his dressing was hurried on. "He can do all you say when he's teaching; and when he fights as he did last night--"
"Oh, I do wish that I had been there!"
"--his point seems everywhere at once."
"That's the sort of man I love," cried the English lad excitedly, and he gave his visitor so hearty a slap on the shoulder that Denis changed colour and reeled.
"Oh, what have I done!" cried the lad, catching him in his arms and hurriedly lowering him into a settee, before fetching him water in a silver cup and holding it to his lips.--"Feel better now?" he said.