of such a blow? The bitter tears ran down his face again. "Here, here, odzookens, lad!" grinned the workman stolidly, "thou 'lt vetch t' river up if weeps zo ha-ard. Ztop un, ztop un; do now." Nick sat staring at the ground. A beetle was trying to crawl over a shaving. It was a curly shaving, and as fast as the beetle crept up to the top the shaving rolled over, and dropped the beetle upon its back in the dust; but it only got up and tried again. Nick looked up. "Is-is Master Richard Burbage here, then?" Perhaps Burbage, who had been a Stratford man, would help him. 66 Noa," drawled the carpenter; "Muster Bubbage beant here; doan't want un, nuther nuvver do moind a's owen business always jawin' volks. A beant here, an' doan't want un, nuther." Nick's heart went down. he?" CHAPTER XXI. WITH THE CATHEDRAL BOYS. AN old gray rat came out of its hole, ran swiftly across the floor, and, sitting up, crouched there, peering at Nick. He thought its bare, scaly tail was not a pleasant thing to see; yet he looked at it, with his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands. He had been locked in for two days now. They had put in plenty of food, and he had eaten it all; for if he starved to death he would certainly never get home. It was quite warm, and the boards had been taken from the window, so that there was plenty of light. The window faced the north, and in the night, wakened by some outcry in the street below, Nick had leaned his log-pillow against the wainscot, and climbing up, looked out into the sky. It was clear, for a wonder, and the "And where is stars were very bright. The moon, like a smoky golden platter, rose behind the eastern towers of the town, and in the north hung the Great Wain pointing at the polar star. "Who? Muster Bubbage? Whoy, a beeth out to Zhoreditch, a-playin' at t' theater." "And where may Shoreditch be?" "Whur be Zhoreditch ?" gaped the workman, vacantly. "Whoy—whoy, zummers over there a bit yon, zure"; and he waved his hand about in a way that pointed to nowhere at all. Somewhere underneath those stars was Stratford. The throstles would be singing in the orchard there now, when the sun was low and the cool wind came up from the river with a little whispering in the lane. The purple-gray doves, too, would be cooing softly in the elms "When will he be back?" asked Nick, des- over the cottage gable. In fancy he heard the perately. "Be ba-ack?" drawled the workman, slowly taking up his saw again; "back whur?-here? Whoy, a wun't pla-ay here no mo-ore avore next Martlemas." Martinmas? That was almost mid-November. It was now but middle May. Nick got up and went out at the wicket-gate. He was beginning to feel sick and a little faint. The rush in the street made him dizzy, and the sullen roar that came down on the wind from the town, mingled with the tramping of feet, the splash of oars, the bumping of boats along the wharves, and the shouts and cries of a thousand voices, stupefied him. He was standing there motionless in the narrow way, as if dazed by a heavy fall, when Gaston Carew came running up from the riverfront, with the bandy-legged man at his heels. whistle of their wings as they flew. But all the sound that came in over the roofs of London town was a hollow murmur as from a kennel of surly hounds. "Why, where art thou?" cool hand. She was a graceful child, and gen He was sitting in the corner behind the door. tle in all her ways. "I am sorry thou dost not Here," said he. feel well, Nick. But my father will come presently, and he will heal thee soon. Don't cry any more." She came in, but he did not look up. "Nick," she asked earnestly, "why wilt thou be so bad, and try to run away from my father?" "I'm not crying," said Nick stoutly, though as he spoke a tear ran down his cheek, and fell "I hate thy father!" said he, and brought his upon his hand. fist down upon his knee. "Hate him? Oh, Nick! Why?" "Then it is the roof leaks," she said, looking up as if she had not seen his tear-blinded eyes. "But, cheer up, Nick, and be a good boywilt thou not? 'T is dinner-time, and thy new clothes have come; and thou art to come down now and try them on." When Nick came out of the tiring-room and found the master-player come, he knew not what to say or do. "Oh, brave, brave, brave!" cried Cicely, and danced around him, clapping her hands. "Why, it is a very prince a king! Oh, Nick, thou art most beautiful to see!" And Master Carew's Own eyes sparkled; for truly it was a pleasant sight to see a fair young lad like Nick in such attire. There was a fine white shirt of Holland linen, and long hose of grayish-blue, with puffed and slashed trunks of velvet so blue as to be almost black. The sleeveless jerkin was of the same dark color, trellised with roses embroidered in silk, and loose from breast to broad lace collar so that the waistcoat of dull gold silk beneath it might show. A cloak of damask with a silver clasp, a buff-leather belt with a chubby purse hung to it by a chain, tan Set me in earth and bowl me to death with boiled turnips!-do they think to play bobfool with me? Five shillings! A fico for their five shillings - and this for them!" and he squeezed the end of his thumb between his fingers. "Cicely, what dost think? — Phil Henslowe had the face to match Jem Bristow with our Nick!" "Why, daddy, Jem hath a face like a halibut!" "And a voice like a husky crow. Why, Nick's mere shadow on the stage is worth a ton of Jemmy Bristows. 'T was casting pearls "I can na pay for them, sir," said Nick before swine, Nick, to offer thee to Henslowe slowly. and Alleyn; but we 've found a better trough than theirshey, Cicely Goldenheart, have n't we? Thou art to be one of Paul's boys." "Paul who?" Carew lay back in his chair and laughed. Nick hung his head, much troubled. What could he say; what could he think? This man had stolen him from home,―ay, made him tremble for his very life a dozen times,-"Paul who? Why, Saint Paul, Nick,-'t is and with his whole heart he knew he hated him Paul's Cathedral boys I mean. Marry, what "I'd like another barley-cake." "You'd what?" cried the master-player, letting the front legs of his chair come down on the floor with a thump. "I'd like another barley-cake," said Nick quietly, helping himself to the honey. "Upon my word and on the remnant of mine honour!" ejaculated Carew. "Tell a man his fortune 's made, and he calls for barley-cakes! Why, thou'dst say Pooh!' to a 6 Carew turned upon his heel and ordered the cannon-ball! My faith, boy, dost understand dinner. what this doth mean?" It was a good dinner: fat roast capon stuffed with spiced carrots; asparagus, biscuit, barleycakes, and honey; and to end with, a flaky pie, and Spanish cordial sprinkled with burnt sugar. With such fare and a keen appetite, a marvelous brand-new suit of clothes, and Cicely chattering gaily by his side, Nick could not be sulky or doleful long. He was soon laughing; and Carew's spirits seemed to rise with the boy's. "Here, here!" he cried, as Nick was served the third time to the pie; "art hollow to thy very toes? Why, thou 'lt eat us out of house and home - hey, Cicely? Marry come up, I think I'd best take Ned Alleyn's five shillings for thine hire, after all! What! Five shillings? "Ay," said Nick; "that I be hungry." 66 But, Nick, upon my soul, thou art to sing with the Children of Paul's; to play with the Cathedral company; to be a bright particular star in the sweetest galaxy that ever shone in English sky! Dost take me yet?" "Ay," said Nick, and sopped the honey with his cake. Carew played with his glass uneasily, and tapped his heel upon the floor. "And is that all thou hast to say - hast turned oyster? There's no R in May — nobody will eat thee! Come, don't make a mouth as though the honey of the world were all turned gall upon thy tongue. 'T is the flood-tide of thy fortune, boy! Thou art to sing before the school ter, et cetera'-'t is so set down. And I tell thee, sir, he has no training, not a bit; can't tell a pricksong from a bottle of hay; does n't know a canon from a crocodile, or a fugue from a hole in the ground!" "Oh, fol-de-riddle de fol-de-rol! What has that to do with it? I tell thee, sir, the boy can sing." "And, sir, I say I know my place. Music does not grow like weeds." "And fa-la-las don't make a voice." "What! How? Wilt thou teach me?" The master's voice rose angrily. "Teach me, who learned descant and counterpoint in the Gallo-Belgic schools, sir; the best in all the world! Thou, who knowest not a staccato from a stick of liquorice!" Carew shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "Come, Master Gyles, this is fool play. I told thee that the boy could sing, and thou hast not yet heard him try. Thou knowest right well I am no such simple gull as to mistake a jay for a nightingale; and I tell thee, sir, upon my word and on the remnant of mine honour, he has the voice that thou dost need if thou wouldst win the favor of the Queen. He has the voice, and thou the thingumbobs to make the most of it. Don't be a fool, now; hear him sing. That's all I ask. Just hear him once. Thou 'lt pawn thine ears to hear him twice." The music-school stood within the old cathedral grounds. Through the windows came up distantly the murmur of the throng in Paul's He pushed Nick into the anteroom, and Yard. It was mid-afternoon, quite warm; blunturned to Carew with an irritated air. "I likewise know, sir, what is what. In plain words, Master Gaston Carew, ye have grossly misrepresented this boy to me, to the waste of much good time. Why, sir, he does not dance a step, and cannot act at all." "Soft, Master Gyles-be not so fast!" said Carew haughtily, drawing himself up, with his hand on his poniard; "dost mean to tell me that I have lied to thee? Marry, sir, thy tongue will run thee into a blind alley! I told thee that the boy could sing, but not that he could act or dance." "Pouf, sir,- words! I know my place: one peg below the dean, sir, nothing less: 'Magis dering flies buzzed up and down the lozenged panes, and through the dark hall crept the humming sound of childish voices reciting eagerly, with now and then a sharp, small cry as some one faltered in his lines, and had his fingers rapped. Somewhere else there were boyish voices running scales, now up, now down, without a stop, and other voices singing harmonies, two parts and three together, here and there a little flat from weariness. The stairs were very dark, Nick thought, as they went up to another floor; but the long hall they came into there was quite bright with the sun. At one end was a little stage, like the one at the Rose play-house, with a small gallery for musicians above it; but everything here was painted white and gold, and was most scrupulously clean. The rush-strewn floor was filled with oaken benches, and there were paintings hanging upon the wall, portraits of old headmasters and precentors. Some of them were so dark with time that Nick wondered if they had been blackamoors. Master Gyles closed the great door and pulled a cord that hung by the stage. A bell jangled faintly somewhere in the wall. Nick heard the muffled voices hush, and then a shuffling trampofslippered feet came up the outer stair. "Pouf! " said the precentor crustily. "Tempus fugit- that fair, which wore a crimson jerkin and a cap. The man who had the jackanapes played upon a pipe and a tabor; and when he said, "Dance!" the jackanapes danced, for it was sorely afraid of the man. Yet when Nick looked around and did not see the masterplayer anywhere in the hall, he felt exceedingly lonely all at once without him, though he both feared and hated him. There still was a shuffling of feet and a low talking; but soon it became very quiet, and they all seemed to be waiting for him to begin. He did not care, but supposed he THAT VOICE, THAT VOICE!' NAT GYLES PANTED TO HIMSELF." might as well: what else could he do? There was a clock some where tick ing quickly with its sharp, metallic ring. As he listened, lonely, his heart cried out for home. In his fancy the wind seemed rippling over the Avon, and the elmleaves rustled like rain upon the roof above his bed. There were red and is to say, we have no time to waste. So, marry, boy, venite, exultemus-in other words, if thou canst sing, be up and at it. Come, cantate-sing, I bid thee, and that instanter - if thou canst sing at all." The under-masters and monitors were push- white wild-roses in the hedge, and in the air a ing the boys into their seats. Carew pointed smell of clover and of new-mown hay. The to the stage. "Thou 'lt do thy level best!" mowers would be working in the clover in the he said in a low, hard tone, and something moonlight. He could almost see the sweep of clashed beneath his cloak like steel on steel. the shining scythes, and hear the chink-a-chank, Nick went up the steps behind the screen. chink-a-chank of the whetstone on the long, It seemed cold in the room; he had not no- curving blades. Chink-a-chank, chink-a-chank ticed it before. Yet there were sweat-drops-'t was but the clock, and he in London town. upon his forehead. He felt as if he were a Carew, sitting there behind the carven jackanapes he had seen once at the Stratford prompter's-screen, put down his head between |