And now I was to wear arms, and that in the best of causes, under the best of captains, one of my own country--a lord in Ayrshire.
"Ay, even so," my master said, marking the joy in my face, "you are right glad to leave us--a lass and a lameter.

{17} Well, well, such is youth, and eld is soon forgotten." I fell on my knees at his feet, and kissed his hands, and I believe that I wept.
"Sir," I said, "you have been to me as a father, and more than it has been my fortune to find my own father.

Never would I leave you with my will, and for the gentle demoiselle, your daughter--" But here I stinted, since in sooth I knew not well what words to say.
"Ay, we shall both miss you betimes; but courage, man! After all, this new life beseems you best, and, mark me, a lass thinks none the worse of a lad because he wears not the prentice's hodden grey, but a Scots archer's green, white, and red, and Charles for badge on breast and sleeve, and a sword by his side.

And as for the bonny Book of Hours--'Master,' I said with shame, 'was that my ransom ?' "Kennedy would have come near my price, and strove to make me take the gold.

But what is bred in the bone will out; I am a gentleman born, not a huckster, and the book I gave him freely.