ssed forward.

"Master," she said, "if in truth you are content with plain fare and
lodging, I think my mother would be willing to give room to one or two
of the women among you, if they would pay her by aid in household work:
and methinks our next neighbour would maybe do as much. Thinkest thou
not so, Haimet?--Will you follow us and see?"

"Most gladly, maiden," was the answer.

"My word, Flemild, you are in for it!" whispered Haimet. "Mother will
be right grateful to you for bringing a whole army of strangers upon
her, who may be witches for all you know."

"Mother will be glad enough of a woman's arms to help her, and let her
rest her own," replied Flemild decidedly; "and I am sure they look quite
respectable."

"Well, look out for storms!" said Haimet.

Flemild, who had acted on an impulse of compassionate interest, was
herself a little doubtful how her action would be received at home,
though she did not choose to confess it. They passed down North Gate
Street (now the Corn-market), and crossing High Street, went a few yards
further before they readied their own street. On their right hand stood
the cooks' shops, and afterwards the vintners', while all along on their
left ran the dreaded Jewry, which reached from High Street to what is
_now_ the chief entrance of Christ Church. The fletchers' and cutlers'
stalls stood along this side of the street. Eastwards the Jewry
stretched to Oriel Street, and on the south came very near the Cathedral
Church of Saint Frideswide. The (now destroyed) Church of Saint Edward
stood in the midst of it.

As our friends turned into their own street, they passed a girl of some
seventeen years of age--a very handsome girl, with raven hair and dark
brilliant eyes.

She smiled at Derette as she passed, and the child returned the silent
salutation, taking care to turn her head so that her sister should not
see her. A moment later they came to their own door, over which hung a
panel painted with a doubtful object, which charity might accept as the
walnut tree for which it was intended. Just as this point was reached,
their mother came to the door, carrying a tin basin, from which she
threw some dirty water where every body then threw it, into the gutter.

"Saint Benedict be merciful to us!" she cried, nearly dropping the
basin. "What on earth is all this ado? And the children here in the
midst of it! Holy Virgin, help us! There is nothing but trouble for a
poor woma