lice Jordan, the unlucky girl who, at our first
visit to Lovell Tower, was reprimanded for leaving out the onions in the
blanch-porre. Margery had persuaded her mother to resign to her for a
personal attendant this often clumsy and forgetful but really
well-meaning girl. It was a Friday evening when they arrived in London;
and Margery was much too tired to think of doing anything but rest her
wearied head in sleep.

As early as four o'clock the next morning, she was roused by London
cries from a happy dream of Lovell Tower. "Quinces! sweet quinces! ripe
quinces!"

"Any kitchen-stuff, have you, maids?"

"Cakes and ale! cakes and ale!"

"Cherry ripe! cherry ripe!"

"Come buy, pretty maids, come buy! come buy!" with an undercurrent of
the long rhymed cry of the hawker of haberdashery, of which Shakespeare
has given us a specimen as regards the English version--

"Lawn, as white as driven snow;
Cyprus, black as e'er was crow,"
etcetera.

Margery lay still, and listened in silence to all these new sounds. At
length she rose and dressed herself, with the assistance of Alice, who
was seriously dissatisfied with the narrow streets and queer smells of
the town, and spared no comment on these points while assisting her
young mistress at her toilette. Having dressed, Margery passed into an
antechamber, close to her bedroom, where breakfast was served. This
repast consisted of a pitcher of new milk, another pitcher of wine, a
dish of poached eggs, a tremendous bunch of water-cress, a large loaf of
bread, and marchpanes--a sweet cake, not unlike the modern macaroon.
Breakfast over, Margery put on her hood, and taking Alice with her, she
sallied forth on an expedition to examine the neighbourhood of her new
home. One of Lord Marnell's men-servants followed at a short distance,
wearing a rapier, to defend his mistress in case of any assault being
made upon her.

Lord Marnell's house was very near the country, and in a quiet and
secluded position, being pleasantly situated in Fleet Street. Green
fields lay between the two cities of London and Westminster. There was
only one bridge across the river, that silver Thames, which ran, so
clear and limpid, through the undulating meadows; and the bridge was
entirely built over, a covered way passing under the houses for wheeled
vehicles. Far to the right rose the magnificent Palace of Westminster,
a relic of the Saxon kings; and behind it the grand old Abbey, and the