g lane that leads
away to Kenilworth--"Nicholas, dost know any other songs like that?"

"Not just like that, sir," answered Nick, not knowing what to make of
his companion's strange new mood; "but I know Master Will Shakspere's
'Then nightly sings the staring owl, tu-who, tu-whit, tu-who!' and 'The
ousel-cock so black of hue, with orange-tawny bill,' and then, too, I
know the throstle's song that goes with it."

"Why, to be sure--to be sure thou knowest old Nick Bottom's song, for
isn't thy name Nick? Well met, both song and singer--well met, I say!
Nay," he said hastily, seeing Nick about to speak; "I do not care to
hear thee talk. Sing me all thy songs. I am hungry as a wolf for songs.
Why, Nicholas, I must have songs! Come, lift up that honeyed throat of
thine and sing another song. Be not so backward; surely I love thee,
Nick, and thou wilt sing all of thy songs for me."

He laid his hand on Nick's shoulder in his kindly way, and kept step
with him like a bosom friend, so that Nick's heart beat high with pride,
and he sang all the songs he knew as they walked along.

Carew listened intently, and sometimes with a fierce eagerness that
almost frightened the boy; and sometimes he frowned, and said under his
breath, "Tut, tut, that will not do!" but oftener he laughed without a
sound, nodding his head in time to the lilting tune, and seeming vastly
pleased with Nick, the singing, and last, but not least, with himself.

And when Nick had ended the master-player had not a word to say, but for
half a mile gnawed his mustache in nervous silence, and looked Nick all
over with a long and earnest look.

Then suddenly he slapped his thigh, and tossed his head back boldly.
"I'll do it," he said; "I'll do it if I dance on air for it! I'll have
it out of Master Stubbes and canting Stratford town, or may I never
thrive! My soul! it is the very thing. His eyes are like twin holidays,
and he breathes the breath of spring. Nicholas, Nicholas
Skylark,--Master Skylark,--why, it is a good name, in sooth, a very
good name! I'll do it--I will, upon my word, and on the remnant of
mine honour!"

"Did ye speak to me, sir?" asked Nick, timidly.

"Nay, Nicholas; I was talking to the moon."

"Why, sir, the moon has not come yet," said Nick, staring into the
western sky.

"To be sure," replied Master Carew, with a queer laugh. "Well, the
silvery jade has missed the first act."

"Oh," cried Nick, reminded of the purpose of his long wa