"Nay--cry you mercy--Master Droop."

"Why, now, Sir Percy," said Copernicus, with oily grace, "ef you wouldn't mind, I'd be proud ef you'd set down over yonder, perchance, and have a gla.s.s with me. We'd be more private then, and I could make this hull business clear to ye. What say ye, sir?"

"Why, there's my hand, Master Dupe--Droop," said the knight, his face brightening mightily. "Five yards are a mile for a man of my girth, Master Droop, but praise G.o.d such words as these of yours cheer my heart to still greater deeds than faring a mile afoot."

Slowly and painfully the corpulent knight drew himself to his feet, and with one hand bearing affectionately but heavily on Droop's shoulder, he shuffled over to the recess and seated himself.

"What ho, there! Drawer!" he shouted, as soon as they were comfortably disposed face to face.

"Anon, sir, anon!" came the familiar reply, and the drawer, who had just served two new guests at the long table, now hurried over to the nook behind the casks.

"A quart of sack, villain!" said Sir Percevall.

"And for you, sir?" said the drawer, turning to Droop.

"Yes, yea, bring me the same." He had no idea what sack was, but he felt that in all probability it was a mild beverage, or no one would order a quart at once.

"And this same letter, now," Sir Percevall began. "To warn you truly, friend, this matter of monopolies hath something of an ill savor in the public mind. What with sweet wines, salt, hides, vinegar, iron, oil, lead, yarn, gla.s.s, and what not in monopoly, men cry out that they are robbed and the Queen's advisers turn pale at the very word."

He interrupted himself to give his attention to the wine which had just been placed before him.

"To better acquaintance!" he said, and the two drank deep together.

Droop smacked his lips critically and turned up his eyes for greater abstraction. The wine was pleasant to the palate, he thought, but--well--it wasn't whiskey.

"Of this letter, now," the knight resumed, anxious to discover his own advantage in Droop's plans. "'Twere vain for you, a stranger to the Lord High Treasurer, to accost him with it. A very circ.u.mspect and pragmatical old lord, believe me. Not every man hath admittance to him, I promise ye. As for me, why, G.o.d 'ild you, man! 'twas but yesterday a fortnight Burleigh slapped me o' the shoulder and said: 'Percevall, ye grow fat, you rogue--on the word of a Cecil!' Oh, trust me, Master Droop; my lord much affects my conversation!"

"Is that a fact?" said Droop, admiringly. "It certainly ain't done your conversation any harm to be affected that way."

"Oh, then, an you jest, Master----"

"Not a mite!" exclaimed Copernicus, anxiously. "Verily, nay, friend.

Trust me--never!"

"Or never trust thee!" quoth the knight, with a twinkle in his eye.

Droop took refuge in his wine, and Sir Percevall imitating him, the two emptied their cups together and sighed with a simultaneous content.

"That's not bad swizzle," said Droop, patronizingly. "But, as fer me, give me whiskey every time!"

"Whiskey!" said the knight with interest. "Nay, methought I knew every vintage and brew, each label and brand from Rhine to the Canaries. But this name, Master Droop, I own I never heard. Whiskey, say you?"

"Well, now, do tell!" said Droop, drawing forth his flask of nineteenth-century rye, "never heerd o' whiskey, eh? Never tasted it, either, I s'pose?"

"How should I taste it, man, not knowing its very name?"

"Verily, thou sayest sooth!" said Droop. Then, glancing all about him: "Ain't there any smaller gla.s.ses 'round here?"

"Drawer--ho, drawer, I say!" roared the knight.

"Here, sir--here! What is your pleasure?"

"The pleasure is to come, rogue! Fetch hither two of yon scurvy gla.s.s thimbles you wot of. Hostess calls them cordial gla.s.ses. Haste now!

Scramble, varlet!"

When the two small gla.s.ses were brought, Droop uncorked his flask and poured each full to the brim.

"Th' ain't any seltzer in this one-hoss town," he said, "so I can't make ye a high-ball. We'll jest hev to drink it straight, Sir Knight. Here's luck! Drink hearty!" and with a jerk of hand and head he tossed the spirits down his throat at a gulp and smacked his lips as he set down his gla.s.s.

Sir Percevall followed his friend's movements with a careful eye and imitated him as exactly as possible, but he did not escape a coughing fit, from which he emerged with a purple face and tear-filled eyes.

"Have another?" said Droop, cheerfully.

"A plague on queezy gullets!" growled the knight. "Your spirits sought two ways at once, Master Droop, and like any other half-minded equivocal transaction, contention was the outcome. But for the whiskey, mind you--why, it hath won old Sir Percevall's heart. Zounds, man! Scarce two fingers of it, and yet I feel the wanton laugh in me a'ready. Good fellows need good company, my master! So pour me his fellow! So--so!"

They drank again, and this time the more cautious knight escaped all painful consequences.

"Look you, Master Droop," said the delighted old toper, leaning back against the wall as he beamed across the table at his companion, "look you! An you have a b.u.t.t of this same brew, Sir Percevall Hart is your slave, your scullion, your foot-boy! Why, man, 'tis the elixir of life!

It warms a body like a maid's first kiss! Whence had you it?"

"Oh, they make it by the million gallons a year where I come from,"

Droop replied. "Have another. Take it with hot water and sugar--I mean honey."

The advice was followed, and while they sipped the enlivening decoction, Copernicus explained his plans touching the patenting of his phonograph and bicycle. When he concluded his relation, the knight leaned back and gazed at him with an affectionate squint.

"See, now, bully rook, if I take you," he said. "It behooves you to have fair inductance at court. For this ye come to Sir Percevall Hart, her Majesty's harbinger and--though he says so himself--a good friend to Cecil. Now, mark me, lad. Naught do I know or care of thy 'funny craft'

or 'bicycle.' Master Bacon is a philosopher and you have here his certificate. Say I well--what?"

He paused and Droop nodded.

"Good--and so to better. Naught care I, or know I, or should or could I trow, being a man of poetical turn and no base mechanic--no offence meant to yourself, Master Droop. But this I do say--and now mark me well--I say--and dare maintain it (and all shall tell ye that is a fair maintenance and a good champion), that for a sure and favorable inductance to the favors of the court there's no man living takes the wall o' Percevall Hart, Knight!"

"Bacon told me as much," said Droop.

"And he told thee well, my master. Frank is a good lad, though vain, and his palm itcheth. So to terms, eh? Now, methinks 'twere but equity and good fellowship for two such as we are to go snacks, eh? Cut through the middle--even halves, bully--even halves! How say you?"

"You don't mean," said Droop, "that you'd want half the profits, jest fer introducin' me to Lord What's-is-name, do ye?"

"With a small retainer, of course, to bind fast. Say--oh, a matter of twenty gold angels or so."

"Why, blame your confounded overstretched skin!" cried Droop, hotly, "I'd sooner drop the hull darn thing! You must take me fer a nat'ral born fool, I guess!"

"Nay, then--'twixt friends," said the knight, soothingly. "'Twixt friends, say we remit one half the profits. Procure me but the angels, Master Droop, and drop the remainder."

"As many devils sooner!" said Droop, indignantly. "I'll take my pigs to another market."

He rose and beckoned to the drawer.