Colonel Gunter was
among them, however, and explained that he had taken the privilege of
kinship to use his house as his own.
The worthy squire, who loved good cheer and good society, was nothing
loath to join this lively company, though in his first surprise to find
his house invaded a round Cavalier oath broke from his lips. To his
astonishment, he was taken to task for this by a crop-haired member of
the company, who reproved him in true Puritan phrase for his profanity.
"Whom have you here, Gunter?" the squire asked his brother-in-law.
"This fellow is not of your sort. I warrant me the canting chap is some
round-headed rogue's son."
"Not a bit of it," answered the colonel. "He is true Cavalier, though he
does wear his hair somewhat of the shortest, and likes not oaths. He's
one of us, I promise you."
"Then here's your health, brother Roundhead!" exclaimed the host,
heartily, draining a brimming glass of ale to his unknown guest.
The prince, before the feast was over, grew gay enough to prove that he
was no Puritan, though he retained sufficient caution in his cups not
further to arouse his worthy host's suspicions. The next day they
reached a small fishing-village, then known as Brighthelstone, now grown
into the great town of Brighton.
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