On Sunday morning, the household was a little disturbed by a visit from a tailor, who lived in the village and owed the greater portion of his livelihood to the Colonel's patronage. He presented himself at an early hour, and seemed to be so anxious that none should spy upon his coming to the manor that Wyndham was put instantly upon his guard. He had the man brought into his private parlour; and after assuring himself that no one was listening at the keyhole, the tailor informed him in conspiratorial accents that he had come to bring him warning. The Colonel laughed at his, and said: 'Warning? Warning of what, my man?' The tailor jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 'Last night the zealots were discoursing together, saying as how your honour was hiding persons of quality in your house, and they would come to search the place, and seize them, they having seen the stout gentleman, which is staying privily with your honour, and suspi cioning that he be of the King's party. Which is the reason of my taking the liberty of waiting upon your honour, me not being wishful that any harm should befall you.' 'Why, that was kindly done!' said the Colonel, thrusting a hand into his pocket, and drawing out a gold piece.
