, and I set down thy name in my books, that
thou owest me six angels: and away goest thou with the silk, and turnest
forth o' _Sunday_ as fine as a fiddler."

"Well--and then?" saith she.

"Then, with _Christmas_ in cometh my bill: and thou must pay the same."

"But if I have no money?"

"Then I lose six angels."

"_Father_, is that honest?" saith _Helen_.

"If thou hadst no reason to think thou shouldst have the money by
_Christmas_, certainly not, my maid," he made answer.

"Not honest, Sir!" saith _Wat_.

"Is it so?" quoth _Father_.

"Oh, look you, words mean different in the Court," crieth Aunt _Joyce_,
"from what they do in _Derwent_-dale and at _Minster Lovel_. If we pay
not our debts here, we go to prison; and folks do but say, Served him
right! But if they pay them not there, why, the poor tailor and
jeweller must feed their starving childre on the sight of my Lord of
_Essex'_ gold lace, and the smell of my Lord of _Oxenford_ his perfumes.
Do but think, what a rare supper they shall have!"

"Now, hearken, _Walter_," saith _Father_. "I must have thee draw up a
list of all thy debts, what sum, for what purpose, and to whom owing:
likewise a list of all debts due to thee."

"But you would not ask for loans back, Sir?" cries _Wat_.

"That depends on whom they were lent to," answers _Father_. "If to a
poor man that can scarce pay his way, no. But if to my cousin of
_Oxenford_ and such like gallants that have plenty wherewith to pay,
then ay."

"They would think it so mean, Sir!" saith _Walter_, diseasefully.

"Let them so do," saith _Father_. "I shall sleep quite as well."

"But really, Sir, I could not remember all."

"Then set down what thou canst remember."

_Walter_ looked as if he would liefer do aught else.

"And, my son," saith _Father_, so gently that it was right tender, "I
must take thee away from the Court."

"Sir!" crieth _Walter_, in a voice of very despair.

"I can see thou art not he that can stand temptation. I had hoped
otherwise. But 'tis plain that this temptation, at the least, hath been
too much for thee."

_Wat's_ face was as though his whole life should be ruined if so were.

"Come, _Wat_, take heart o' grace!" cries _Ned_. "I wouldn't cruise in
those muddy waters if thou shouldst pay me two thousand pound to do the
same. Think but of men scenting themselves--with aught but a stiff
sea-breeze. Pish! And as to dancing, cap in hand, afore a woman, and
calli