"The Council is breaking up," said the usher; "but give me the packet;
his Grace the Regent will presently see the messenger."
"The packet," replied the page, "must be delivered into the Regent's
own hands; such were the orders of my master."
The usher looked at him from head to foot, as if surprised at his
boldness, and then replied, with some asperity, "Say you so, my young
master? Thou crowest loudly to be but a chicken, and from a country
barn-yard too."
"Were it a time or place," said Roland, "thou shouldst see I can do
more than crow; but do your duty, and let the Regent know I wait his
pleasure."
"Thou art but a pert knave to tell me of my duty," said the courtier
in office; "but I will find a time to show you you are out of yours;
meanwhile, wait there till you are wanted." So saying, he shut the
door in Roland's face.
Michael Wing-the-wind, who had shrunk from his youthful companion
during this altercation, according to the established maxim of
courtiers of all ranks, and in all ages, now transgressed their
prudential line of conduct so far as to come up to him once more.
"Thou art a hopeful young springald," said he, "and I see right well
old Yorkshire had reason in his caution. Thou hast been five minutes
in the court, and hast employed thy time so well, as to make a
powerful and a mortal enemy out of the usher of the council-chamber.
Why, man, you might almost as well have offended the deputy butler!"
"I care not what he is," said Roland Graeme; "I will teach whomever I
speak with to speak civilly to me in return.
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