"He was a black man, was he not?"

By which term Rhoda meant what we now call a dark man.

"Yes, very black and swarthy."

"Where did he commonly live?"

"Mostly at Whitehall or Saint James's. At times he went to Hampton Court, and often, for a change of sir, to Newmarket; now and then to Tunbridge Wells. He was but little at Windsor."

"Did you like him, Mrs Dorothy?"

Phoebe looked up, when no answer came. The expression of Mrs Dorothy's face was a curious mixture of fear, repulsion, and yet amus.e.m.e.nt.

"No!" she said at length.

"Why not?" demanded Rhoda.

"Well, there were some that did," was the reply, in a rather constrained tone; "and the one that he behaved the worst to loved him the best of all."

"How droll!" said Rhoda. "And who were your friends, then, Mrs Dorothy?"

"That depends, my dear, on what you mean by friends. If you mean them that flattered me, and joked with me, and the like,--why, I had very many; or if you mean them that would take some trouble to push me in the world,--well, there were several of those; but if you mean such as are only true friends, that would have cast one thought to my real welfare, whether I should go to Heaven or h.e.l.l,--I had but one of that sort."

"And who was your one friend, Mrs Dolly?" asked Rhoda, pursing up her lips a little.

"The King's Scots cook, my dear," quietly replied Mrs Dorothy.

"The _what_?" shrieked Rhoda, going into convulsions of laughter.

"Ah, you may laugh, Mrs Rhoda. You know there's an old saying, 'Let them laugh that win.' If ever an old sinner like me enters the gates of Heaven, so far as the human means are concerned, I shall owe it, first of all, to old David Armstrong."

"Will you please to tell us about him, Madam?" rather timidly asked Phoebe.

"With all my heart, my dear. Dear old Davie! Methinks I see him now.

Picture to yourselves, my dears, a short man, something stooping in the shoulders, with sharp features and iron-grey hair; always dressed in his white cooking garb, and a white cap over his frizzled locks. But before I tell you what I knew of old Davie, methinks I had better tell you a tale of him that will give you some diversion, without I mistake."

"Oh do, Mrs Dolly?" cried Rhoda, who feared nothing so much as too great seriousness in her friend's stones.

"Well," said Mrs Dorothy, "then you must know, my dears, that once upon a time the King and Queen were at dinner, and with them, amongst others, my Lord Rochester, who was at that time a very wild gallant. He died, indeed, very penitent, and, I trust, a saved man; but let that be. They were sat after dinner, and my Lord Rochester pa.s.ses the bottle about to his next neighbour. 'Come, man!' saith the King, in his rollicksome way, 'take a gla.s.s of that which cheereth G.o.d and man, as Scripture saith.' My Lord Rochester at once bets the King forty pound that there was no such saying in Scripture. The King referreth all to the Queen's chaplain, that happened to be the only parson then present; but saith again, that though he could not name the place, yet he was as certain to have read it in Scripture as that his name was Charles, 'What thinks your Majesty?' quoth my Lord Rochester, turning to the Queen. She, very modestly--"

"But, Mrs Dolly, was not the Queen a Papist? What would she know about the Bible?"

"So she was, my dear. But they have a Bible of their own, that they allow the reading of to certain persons. And I dare say she was one.

However, my Lord Rochester asked her, for I heard him; and she said, very womanly, that she was unfit to decide such matters, but she could not think there to be any such pa.s.sage in the Bible."

"Why, there isn't!" rashly interpolated Rhoda.

Mrs Dorothy smiled, but did not contradict her.

"Then up spoke the Queen's chaplain, and gave his voice like his mistress, that there was no such pa.s.sage; and several others of them at the table said they thought the like. So the King, swearing his wonted oath, cried out for some to bring a Bible, that he might search and see."

"O Mrs Dolly! what was his favourite oath?"

"I do not see, my dear, that it would do you any good to know it. Well, the Bible, as matters went, was not to be had. King, Queen, chaplain, and courtiers, there was not a man nor woman at the table that owned to possessing a Bible."

"How shocking!" said Phoebe, under her breath.

"Very shocking, my dear," a.s.sented Mrs Dorothy. "But all at once my Lord Rochester cries out, 'Please your Majesty, I'll lay you forty shillings there's one man in this palace that has a Bible! He cut me short for swearing in the yard a month since. That's old David, your Majesty's Scots cook. If you'll send for him--' 'Done!' says the King.

'Killigrew, root out old Davie, and tell him to come here, and bring his Bible with him.' So away went Mr Killigrew, the King's favourite page; and ere long back he comes, and old Davie with him, and under Davie's arm a great brown book. 'Here he is, Sire, Bible and all!' says Mr Killigrew. 'Come forward, Davie, and be hanged!' says the King. 'I'll come forward, Sire, at your Majesty's bidding,' says Davie, 'and gin ye order it, and I ha'e deservit it, I can be hangit,' saith he, mighty dry; 'but under your Majesty's pleasure I'll just tak' the liberty to ask, Sire, what are ye wantin' wi' the Buik?"

"Oh, how queer you talk, Mrs Dolly!"

"As David talked, my dear. He was a Scot, you know. Well, the King gave a hearty laugh; and says he, 'Oh, come forward, Davie, and fear nothing. We'll not hang you, and we want no hurt to your darling book.'

'Atweel, Sire,' says Davie, 'and I'd ha'e been gey sorry gin ye had meant to hurt my buik, seein' it was my mither's, and I set store by it for her sake; but trust me, Sire, I'd ha'e been a hantle sorrier gin ye had meant onie disrespect to the Lord's Buik. I'll no stand by, wi' a'

honour to your Majesty, an' see I lichtlied.'"

"What does that mean, Mrs Dolly?"

"Set light by, my dear. Well, the King laughed again, but I think Davie's words a little sobered him, for he spoke kindly enough, that no harm should be done, nor was any disrespect intended; 'but,' saith he, 'my Lord Rochester and I fell a-disputing if certain words were in the Bible or no; and as you are the only man here like to have one, I sent for you.' Davie looks, quiet enough, round all the table; and he says, under his breath, 'The only man here like to have a Bible! Ay, your Majesty, I ken weel eneuch that I ha'e my habitation among the tents o'

Kedar. Atweel, Sire, an' I'll be pleasit to answer onie sic question, gin ye please to tell me the words.' My Lord Rochester saith, '"Wine, which cheereth G.o.d and man." Are such words as those in the Bible, David?' Neither yea nor nay said old Davie: but he turned over the leaves of his Bible for a moment, and then, clearing his voice, and first doffing his cook's cap (which he had but lifted a minute for the King), he read from the Book of Judges, Jotham's parable of the trees.

'Twas a little while ere any spoke: then said the Queen's chaplain, swearing a great oath, that he could not but be infinitely surprised to find there to be such words in the Bible."

"O Mrs Dolly! a parson to swear!"

"There are different sorts of parsons, my dear. But old David thought it shocking, for he turns round to the chaplain, and saith he, 'Your pardon, Mr Howard, but gin ye'd give me leave, I'd be pleasit to swear the neist oath for ye. It would sound rather better, ye ken, for a cook than a chaplain.' 'Hurrah!' says the King, swearing himself, 'the sprightliest humour I heard of a long time! Pray you, silence, and hear old Davie swear!' 'I see nothing to swear anent the now, an' it please your Majesty,' says Davie, mighty dry again: 'when I do, your Majesty'll be sure to hear it.' The King laughed heartily, for he took Davie right enough, though I saw some look puzzled. Of course he never would see reason to do a sinful thing. But a new thought had come into the King's head, and he turns quick to Mr Howard, and desires that he would give exposition of the words that Davie had read. 'You ought to know what they mean, if we don't, poor sinners,' saith the King. 'I protest, Sire,' saith the chaplain, 'that I cannot so much as guess what they mean.' 'Now then, David the divine,' cries my Lord Rochester, 'your exposition, if you please.' And some of the courtiers, that by this time were not too sober, drummed on the table with gla.s.ses, and shouted for David's sermon."

"I think, Mrs Dolly, that was scarce proper, in the King's and Queen's presence."

"So I think, my dear. But King Charles's Court was Liberty Hall, and every man did that which was right in his own eyes. But Davie stood very quiet, with the Bible yet open in his hands. He waited his master's bidding, if they did not. 'Oh ay, go on, Davie,' saith the King, leaning back in his chair and laughing. 'Silence for Mr David Armstrong's sermon!' cries my Lord Rochester, in a voice of a master of ceremonies. But Davie took no note of any voice but the King's, though 'twas to my Lord Rochester he addressed him when he spoke. 'That wine cheereth man, your Lordship very well knows,' quoth Davie, in his dry way: and seeing his Lordship had drank a bottle and a half since he sat down, I should think he did, my dears. 'But this, that wine cheereth G.o.d, is referable to the drink-offering commanded by G.o.d of the Jews, wherein the wine doth seem to typify the precious blood of Christ, and the thankfulness of him that hath his iniquity thereby purged away. For in the fifteenth chapter of the Book of Numbers you shall find this drink-offering termed "a sweet savour unto the Lord." And since nothing but Christ is a sweet savour unto G.o.d, therefore we judge that the wine of the drink-offering, like to that of the Sacrament, did denote the blood of Christ whereby we are redeemed; the one prefiguring that whereto it looked forward, as the other doth likewise figure that whereunto it looketh back. This, therefore, that wine cheereth G.o.d, is to be understood by an emblem, of the blood of Christ, our Mediator; for through this means G.o.d is well pleased in the way of salvation that He hath appointed, whereby His justice is satisfied. His law fulfilled, His mercy reigneth, His grace doth triumph, all His perfections do agree together, the sinner is saved, and G.o.d in Christ glorified. Now, Sire, I have done your bidding, and I humbly ask your Majesty's leave to withdraw.' The King said naught, but cast him a nod of consent. My dears, you never saw such a change as had come over that table. Every man seemed sobered and awed. The Queen was weeping, the King silent and thoughtful. My Lord Rochester, whom at that time nothing could sober long, was the only one to speak, and rising with make-believe gravity, as though in his place in the House of Lords, he offered a motion that the King should please to send Mr Howard into the kitchen to make kail, and raise the Reverend Mr David Armstrong to the place of chaplain."

"What is kail, Mrs Dolly?" asked Rhoda, laughing.

"'Tis Scots broth, my dear, whereof King Charles was very fond, and old David had been fetched from Scotland on purpose to make it for him."

"What a droll old man!" exclaimed Rhoda.

"Ah, he was one of the best men ever I knew," said Mrs Dorothy. "But, my dear, look at the clock!"

"I declare!" cried Rhoda. "Phoebe, we have but just time to run home ere supper, if so much as that. Good evening, Mrs Dolly, and thank you. What will Madam say?"

Note: David Armstrong is a historical person, and this anecdote is true.

The surname given to him only is fict.i.tious, as history does not record any name but "David."

CHAPTER FOUR.