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venison off their hands, and disposed of it. They drove into the yard, and, giving the pony and cart in charge of the hostler, went into the inn, where they found the landlord, and one or two other people, who were drinking.
"Well, master Andrew, how fare you?" said Oswald.
"Let me see," said the corpulent landlord, throwing back his head, and putting out his stomach, as he peered at Oswald; "Why, Oswald Partridge, as I am a born man. Where have you been this many a day?"
"In the forest, master Andrew, where there are no few chops and changes."
"Yes, I heard you have a sort of Parliamentary keeper, I'm told; and who is this with you?"
"The grandson of an old friend of yours, now dead, poor old Jacob Armitage."
"Jacob dead, poor fellow! As true as flint was Jacob Armitage, as I'm a born man! And so he is dead! Well, we all owe Heaven a death. Foresters and landlords, as well as kings, all must die!"
"I have brought Edward Armitage over here to introduce him to you, master Andrew. Now that the old man is dead, you must look to him for forest meat."
"Oh, well, well, it is scarce now. I have not had any for some time. Old Jacob brought me the last. You are not one of the Parliamentary foresters, then, I presume?" continued the landlord, turning to Edward.
"No," replied Edward, "I kill no venison for Roundheads."
"Right, my sapling; right and well said. The Armitages were all good men and true, and followed the fortunes of the Beverleys; but there are no Beverleys to follow now. Cut off—root and branch—more's the pity. That was a sad business. But come in; we must not talk here, for walls have ears, they say, and one never knows who one dares to speak before now."
