sn't that too bad?" demanded Mrs Clere, as Nicholas
moved away to attend to another customer. "I never was a rattle, not I.
But 'tis right like men: they take in their heads that all women be
talkers, and be as still as you will, they shall write you down a
chatterbox. Well, now, can't I tempt you with nought more? Stockings,
or kerchiefs, or a knitted cap? Well, then, good den. I don't so well
like the look of them clouds yonder; we shall have rain afore night,
take my word for it. Farewell!"

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Mulberry-colour, much like that we call plum-colour or prune.

Note 2. They say, "I want to _have you go_," when we should say, "I
want _you, to go_." Queen Elizabeth would have used the former
expression.

CHAPTER TWO.

WHO TOOK CARE OF CISSY?

The clothier's shop which we entered in the last chapter was in Balcon
or Balkerne Lane, not far from its northern end. The house was built,
as most houses then were, with the upper storey projecting beyond the
lower, and with a good deal of window in proportion to the wall. The
panes of glass were very small, set in lead, and of a greenish hue; and
the top of the house presented two rather steeply sloped gables. Houses
in that day were more picturesque than they have been for the last two
hundred years, though they have shown a tendency in recent times to turn
again in that direction. Over Master Clere's door--and over every door
in the street--hung a signboard, on which some sign was painted, each
different from the rest, for signs then served the purpose of numbers,
so that two alike in the same street would have caused confusion. As
far as eye could see ran the gaily-painted boards--Blue Lion, varied by
red, black, white, and golden lions; White Hart, King's Head, Golden
Hand, Vine, Wheelbarrow, Star, Cardinal's Hat, Crosskeys, Rose, Magpie,
Saracen's Head, and Katherine Wheel. Master Nicholas Clere hung out a
magpie: why, he best knew, and never told. His neighbours sarcastically
said that it was because a magpie lived there, meaning Mistress Clere,
who was considered a chatterbox by everybody except herself.

Our two friends, Margaret Thurston and Alice Mount, left the shop
together, with their baskets on their arms, and turning down a narrow
lane to the left, came out into High Street, down which they went, then
along Wye Street, and out at Bothal's Gate. They did not live in
Colch