Hall, a building of grand proportions, which, as good Mistress Bolt
informed him, had lately been paved and glazed at Sir Richard
Whittington's own expense. The bright new red and yellow tiles, and the
stained glass of the tall windows high up, as well as the panels of the
wainscot, were embellished with trade-marks and the armorial bearings of
the guilds; and the long tables, hung with snowy napery, groaned with
gold and silver plate, such as, the Duke of Orleans observed to
Catherine, no citizens would dare exhibit in France to any prince or
noble, at peril of being mulcted of all, with or without excuse.

On an open hearth beneath the louvre, or opening for smoke, burnt a fire
diffusing all around an incense-like fragrance, from the logs, composed
of cinnamon and other choice woods and spices, that fed the flame. The
odour and the warmth on a bleak day of May were alike delicious; and King
Henry, after heading Dame Alice up to it, stood warming his hands and
extolling the choice scent, adding: 'You spoil us, Sir Richard. How are
we to go back to the smoke of wood and peat, and fires puffed with our
own mouths, after such pampering as this--the costliest fire I have seen
in the two realms?'

'It shall be choicer yet, Sir,' said Sir Richard Whittington, who had
just handed the Queen to her seat.

'Scarce possible,' replied Henry, 'unless I threw in my crown, and that I
cannot afford. I shall be pawning it ere long.'

Instead of answering, the Lord Mayor quietly put his hand into his furred
pouch, and drawing out a bundle of parchments tied with a ribbon, held
them towards the King, with a grave smile.

'Lo you now, Sir Richard,' said Henry, with a playful face of disgust;
'this is to save your dainty meats, by spoiling my appetite by that
unwelcome sight. What, man! have you bought up all the bonds I gave in
my need to a whole synagogue of Jews and bench of Loin-bards? I shall
have to send for my crown before you let me go; though verily,' he added,
with frank, open face, 'I'm better off with a good friend like you for my
creditor--only I'm sorry for you, Sir Richard. I fear it will be long
ere you see your good gold in the stead of your dirty paper, even though
I gave you an order on the tolls. How now! What, man, Dick Whittington!
Art raving? Here, the tongs!'

For Sir Richard, gently smiling, had placed the bundle of bonds on the
glowing bed of embers.

Henry, even while calling for the tongs, was r