He never was drunk in his life, I'll warrant, poor fellow, and it's high time for him to begin.' And the Amal laid a good-natured bear's paw on Philammon's shoulder, who hung back in perplexity, and cast a piteous look towards Wulf.
Wulf answered it by a shake of the head which gave Philammon courage to stammer out a courteous refusal.

The Amal swore an oath at him which made the cloister ring again, and with a quiet shove of his heavy hand, sent him staggering half across the court: but Wulf interposed.
'The boy is mine, prince.

He is no drunkard, and I will not let him become one.

Would to heaven,' added he, under his breath, 'that I could say the same to some others.

Send us out our supper here, when you are done.