human
How does Yoredale look, went on Blake, with a little, eager catch in his voice,
gpt
Bonnie, though I’ve not seen either since last year’s harvest. This King’s affair of ride and skirmish is well enough; but there’s no time to slip away to Yoredale for a day and smell the wind up yonder. Are Kit and Michael safe?
human
They are in Oxford, accepting flattery with astounding modesty.
gpt
They’ve found Prince Rupert? The Metcalfs—oh, I touch wood!—keep a bee-line when they know where home lies.
human
That is no boast, so why go touching wood? I tell you the King knows what your folk have done and hope to do. The Prince is raising cavalry for the relief of York, and will not rest until you Metcalfs join him. How soon can your company get south?
gpt
It will take five days and a half,
human
Good for you! snapped Blake.
gpt
Even your brother Christopher, with the starry look o’ dreams about his face, was sure that it would take seven days. I wager a guinea to a pinch o’ snuff that you’re not in Oxford in five days and a half.
human
That is a wager?
gpt
I said as much, sir.
human
Then lend me the pinch of snuff. I emptied my box in waiting for you, and was feeling lonely.
gpt
I’ll see you to the next stage, he said, reining his horse about—