"Ahh, your lordship!" said the Friar, regaining his dignity, "We are disputing a very difficult case!"

"Who is that man, that peasant?" asked lord Smythe, and then he looked closely and perceived who it was. "What are you doing here, Duncan?"

"He is come to us for advice," said the Friar.

"What about?" asked the lord, who owned the land around which the monastery sat.

"He has a certain parchment, which contains many things, hard to be understood and of great import."

"Let me see it?"

The monks handed the newspaper to Duncan and Duncan brought the newspaper to lord Smythe.

"I will read this for myself," he said, "Duncan, you will accompany me to the manor."

"Yes, my lord," said Duncan.

Not one of the monks protested at the loss of the parchment, though not one of them held a contented expression upon his face either. The Friar especially had quite a scowl beneath his cowl, as Duncan trotted obediently away at the lord's horse's heels.



UP THE FEUDAL LADDER

---

Duncan was very tired when he finally struggled up the grand entrance drive to the many-storied manor. He wheezed in the heat of the sun, while great drops of salty sweat dripped from his nose.

Lord Smythe was not tired at all as he dismounted. A servant led the sleek Arab away to a stable, and the lord led Duncan up the marble front steps of his house. Offensive though Duncan's smell was to him, he believed that this was an exceptional case, thus he allowed a mere peasant to enter his home by the front door.

A servant opened the door, and stood aside, with some effort holding back his face from showing his distaste for Duncan's common smell.

"Take this man and clean him up," said the lord, "I shall retire to my study. Do not disturb me until I return."

The servants obeyed without a word, and Duncan was taken to a bathroom, where he was stripped of his rough worker's garments, his dirty hose, and his filthy