, then, sir, I saw your play of the vengeful Jew and
good Master Antonio. What! Have I struck home!"

She leaned against the wall with her hands behind her and looked up at
him triumphantly. To her confusion, no answering gleam illumined the
young man's darkling eyes.

"Struck home!" he exclaimed, shaking his head querulously. "Perhaps--but
where? Do you perchance make a mock of me, Mistress--Mistress----?"

She replied to the inquiry in his manner and tone with disappointment in
her voice:

"Mistress Mary Burton, sir, at your service."

Bacon started back a step and a new and eager light leaped into his
eyes.

"The daughter of Isaac Burton?" he cried, "soon to be Sir Isaac?"

"The same, sir. Do you know my father?"

"Ay, indeed. 'Twas to seek him I came hither."

Then, starting forward, Bacon poured forth in eager accents a full
account of his meeting with Droop in the deserted grove--of how they two
had conspired to evade the bailiffs, and of his reasons for borrowing
Droop's clothing.

"Conceive, then, my plight, dear lady," he concluded, "when, on reaching
London, I found that the few coins which remained to me had been left in
the clothes which I gave to this Droop, and I have come hither to
implore the temporary aid of your good father."

"But he hath gone into London, Master Bacon," said Phoebe. "It is most
like he will not return ere to-morrow even."

Droop's hat dropped from Bacon's relaxed grasp and he seemed to wilt in
his speechless despair.

Phoebe's sympathy was awakened at once, but her anxiety to know more
of the all-important question of authorship was perhaps the keenest of
her emotions.

"Why," she exclaimed, "'tis a little matter that needs not my father,
methinks. If ten pounds will serve you, I should deem it an honor to
provide them."

Revived by hope, he drew himself up briskly as he replied:

"Why, 'twill do marvellous well, Mistress Mary--marvellous well--nor
shall repayment be delayed, upon my honor!"

"Nay, call it a fee," she replied, "and give me, I beg of you, a legal
opinion in return."

Bacon stooped to pick up the hat, from which he brushed the dust with
his hand as he replied, with dubious slowness, looking down:

"Why, in sooth, mistress, I am used to gain a greater honorarium. As a
barrister of repute, mine opinions in writing----"

"Ah, then, I fear my means are too small!" Phoebe broke in, with a
smile. "'Tis a pity, too, for the matter is simple, I verily