Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it. “No, stay, Lucy. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him. Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. ’ It seems that I was mistaken. And now, Sir Rowland," he continued, turning to the knight, "to our own concerns.
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