red the hallway, this man in New England attire proved to be a
complete stranger.

Evidently the gentleman had suffered much from the rudeness of his
unwelcome followers, for his face was flushed and his manner constrained
and nervous. Bowing slightly, he stood erect just within the door.

"Did you do me the honor of a summons, mistress?" said he.

The look of amazement on Phoebe's face made him bite his lips with
increase of annoyance, for he saw in her emotion only renewed evidence
of the ridicule to which he had subjected himself.

"I--I crave pardon!" Phoebe stammered. "I fear I took you for another,
sir."

"For one Copernicus Droop, and I mistake not!"

"Do you know him?" she faltered in amazement.

"I have met him--to my sorrow, mistress. 'Tis the first time and the
last, I vow, that Francis Bacon hath dealt with mountebanks!"

"Francis Bacon!" cried Phoebe, delight and curiosity now added to
puzzled amazement. "Is it possible that I see before me Sir Francis
Bacon--or rather Lord Verulam, I believe." She dropped a courtesy, to
which he returned a grave bow.

"Nay, good mistress," he replied. "Neither knight nor lord am I, but
only plain Francis Bacon, barrister, and Secretary of the Star Chamber."

"Oh!" Phoebe exclaimed, "not yet, I see."

Then, as a look of grave inquiry settled over Bacon's features, she
continued eagerly: "Enough of your additions, good Master Bacon. 'Twere
better I offered my congratulations, sir, than prated of these lesser
matters."

"Congratulations! Good lady, you speak in riddles!"

Smiling, she shook her head at him, looking meaningly into his eyes.

"Oh, think not _all_ are ignorant of what you have so ably hidden,
Master Bacon," she said. "Can it be that the author of that wondrous
play I saw here given but yesternight can be content to hide his name
behind that of a too greatly favored player?"

"Play, mistress!" Bacon exclaimed. "Why, here be more soothsaying
manners from a fairer speaker--but still as dark as the uncouth ravings
of that fellow--that--that Droop."

"Nay--nay!" Phoebe insisted. "You need fear no tattling, sir. I will
keep your secret--though in very truth, were I in your worship's place,
'twould go hard but the whole world should know my glory!"

"Secret--glory!" Bacon exclaimed. "In all conscience, mistress, I beg
you will make more clear the matter in question. Of what play speak you?
Wherein doth it concern Francis Bacon?"

"To speak plainly