obility, and sat beside him arm in arm.

What he was saying they were too far away to hear in the shouting and
splash; but those with him in the barge were listening as eagerly as
children to a merry tale. Sometimes they laughed until they held their
sides; and then again as suddenly they were very quiet, and played
softly with their tankards and did not look at one another as he went
gravely on telling his story. Then all at once he would wave his hand
gaily, and his smile would sparkle out; and the whole company, from the
old Lord Chamberlain down, would brighten up again, as if a new dawn had
come over the hills into their hearts from the light of his hazel eyes.

Nick made no doubt that this was some young earl rolling in wealth; for
who else could have such listeners? Yet there was, nevertheless,
something so familiar in his look that he could not help staring at him
as the barge came thumping through the jam.

They passed along an oar's-length or two away; and as they came abeam,
Carew, rising, doffed his hat, and bowed politely to them all.

In spite of his wild life, he was a striking, handsome man.

The old Lord Chamberlain said something to his son, and pointed with his
hand. All the company in the barge turned round to look; and he who had
been talking stood up quickly with his hand upon the young lord's arm,
and, smiling, waved his cap.

Nick gave a sharp cry.

Then the barge pushed through, and shot away down stream like a wild
swan.

"Why, Nick," exclaimed Cicely, "how dreadful thou dost look!" and,
frightened, she caught him by the hand. "Why, oh!--what is it,
Nick--thou art not ill?"

"It was Will Shakspere!" cried Nick, and sank into the bottom of the
wherry with his head upon the master-player's knee. "Oh, Master Carew,"
he cried, "will ye never leave me go?"

Carew laid his hand upon the boy's head, and patted it gently.

"Why, Nick," said he, and cleared his throat, "is not this better than
Stratford?"

"Oh, Master Carew--mother's there!" was the reply.

There was no sound but the thud of oars in the rowlocks and the hollow
bubble of the water at the stern, for they had fallen out of the hurry
and were coming down alone.

"Is thy mother a good woman, Nick?" asked Cicely.

Carew was staring out into the fading sky. "Ay, sweetheart," he answered
in a queer, husky voice, suddenly putting one arm about her and the
other around Nick's shoulders. "None but a good mother could have so
goo