Take it or leave it." "I'll take it," said Truxton, smiling indulgently.

With that he picked up the weapon and stalked away.
A few minutes later he was on his way to the Castle grounds, accompanied by the short-legged Mr.Hobbs, who, from time to time, was forced to remove his tight-fitting cap to mop a hot, exasperated brow, so swift was the pace set by long-legs.

The broadsword reposed calmly on a desk under the nose of a properly impressed young person named Stokes, cashier.
Hobbs led him through the great Park gates and up to the lodge of Jacob Fraasch, the venerable high steward of the grounds.

Here, to King's utter disgust, he was booked as a plain Cook's tourist and mechanically advised to pay strict attention to the rules which would be explained to him by the guide.
"Cook's tourist, eh ?" muttered King wrathfully as they ambled down the shady path together.

He looked with disparaging eye upon the plain little chap beside him.
"It's no disgrace," growled Hobbs, redder than ever.