was
divesting herself of her cloak, and Isel reiterating her frequent
assertion that she was "that tired," Derette snatched her chance, and
every body's back being turned for the moment, slipped out of the door,
and sped up Kepeharme Lane with the speed of a fawn. Her heart beat
wildly, and until she reached Milk Street, she expected every instant to
be followed and taken back. If she could only get her work done, she
told herself, the scolding and probable whipping to follow would be
easily borne.

Owing to its peculiar municipal laws, throughout the Middle Ages, Oxford
had the proud distinction of being the cleanest city in England. That
is to say, it was not quite so appallingly smothered in mire and filth
as others were. Down the midst of every narrow street ran a gutter,
which after rain was apt to become a brook, and into which dirt of every
sort was emptied by every householder. There were no causeways; and
there were frequent holes of uncertain depth, filled with thick mud.
Ownerless dogs, and owned but equally free-spoken pigs, roamed the
streets at their own sweet will, and were not wont to make way for the
human passengers; while if a cart were met in the narrow street, it was
necessary for the pedestrian to squeeze himself into the smallest
compass possible against the wall, if he wished to preserve his limbs in
good working order. Such were the delights of taking a walk in the good
old times. It may reasonably be surmised that unnecessary walks were
not frequently taken.

Kepeharme Lane left behind, where the topography of the holes was
tolerably familiar, Derette had to walk more guardedly. After getting
pretty well splashed, and dodging a too attentive pig which was intent
on charging her for venturing on his beat, Derette at last found herself
at the Osney Gate. She felt now that half her task was over.

"Who goes there?" demanded the welcome voice of Stephen, when Derette
rapped at the gate.

"It's me, Stephen,--Derette: do let me in."

The gate stood open in a moment, and Stephen's pleasant face appeared
behind it, with a look of something like consternation thereon.

"Derette!--alone!--whatever is the matter?"

"Nothing, Stephen; oh, nothing's the matter. I only came alone because
I knew Mother wouldn't let me if I asked her."

"Hoity-toity!--that's a nice confession, young woman! And pray what are
you after, now you have come?"

"Stephen--dear, good Stephen, will you do me a fa