s Oxford. This
lane ran, in old diction, from the Little Bayly to Fish Street--in
modern language, from New Inn Hall Street to Saint Aldate's, slightly
south of what is now Queen Street, and was then known as the Great
Bayly. The girls turned their backs on Saint Aldate's, and went
westwards, taking the way towards the Castle, which in 1159 was not a
ruined fortress, but an aristocratic mansion, wherein the great De Veres
held almost royal state.

"Why don't you like Saint Martin's Well, Flemild?" demanded the child,
with childish curiosity.

"Oh, for lots of reasons," answered her sister evasively.

"Tell me one or two."

"Well, there is always a crowd there towards evening. Then, very often,
there are ragamuffins on Penniless Bench [Note 2] that one does not want
to come too near. Then--don't you see, we have to pass the Jewry?"

"What would they do to us?" asked the child.

"Don't talk about it!" returned her sister, with a shudder. "Don't you
know, Derette, the Jews are very, very wicked people? Hasn't Mother
told you so many a time? Never you go near them--now, mind!"

"Are they worse than we are?"

Flemild's conscience pricked her a little as she replied, "Of course
they are. Don't you know they crucified our Lord?"

"What, these Jews?" asked Derette with open eyes. "Old Aaron, and
Benefei at the corner, and Jurnet the fletcher, and--O Flemild, not,
surely not Countess and Regina? They look so nice and kind, I'm sure
they never could do any thing like that!"

"No, child, not these people, of course. Why, it was hundreds and
hundreds of years ago. But these are just as bad--every one of them.
They would do it again if they had the chance."

"Countess wouldn't, _I_ know," persisted the little one. "Why, Flemild,
only last week, she caught pussy for me, and gave her to me, and she
smiled so prettily. I liked her. If Mother hadn't said I must never
speak to any of them, I'd have had a chat with her; but of course I
couldn't, then, so I only smiled back again, and nodded for `thank
you.'"

"Derette!" There was genuine terror in the tone of the elder sister.
"Don't you know those people are all wicked witches? Regular black
witches, in league with the Devil. There isn't one of them would not
cast a spell on you as soon as look at you."

"What would it do to me?" inquired the startled child.

"What wouldn't it do? you had better ask. Make you into a horrid black
snake, or a pig, or so