arts to pass over. The Strand was very full of
folk of all kinds going back to their houses for supper.

Covent Garden Piazza was a fairer place altogether. It was enclosed in
railings, and a sun-dial stood in the centre; and on the south was the
space for the market, with a cobbled pavement. To the east of St. Paul's
Church stood the greater houses, built on arcades, where many
fashionable people of the Court lived or had their lodgings, and it was
in one of these that I too was to lodge: for I had bidden my Cousin
Jermyn to do the best he could for me, and his letter had reached me at
Dover, telling me to what place I was to come.

As I sat on my horse, waiting while my man went in to one of the
doorways to inquire, a gentleman ran suddenly out of another, with no
hat on his head.

"Why, you are my Cousin Roger, are you not?" he cried from the steps.

"Then you are my Cousin Tom Jermyn," I said.

"The very man!" he cried back; and ran down to hold my stirrup.

All the way up the stairs he was talking and I was observing him. He
seemed a hearty kind of fellow enough, with a sunburnt face from living
in the country; and he wore his own hair. He was still in riding-dress;
and he told me, before we had reached the first landing, that he was
come but an hour ago from his house at Hare Street, in Hertfordshire.

"And I have brought little Dorothy with me," he cried. "You remember
little Dorothy? She is a lady of quality now, aged no less than sixteen;
and is come up to renew her fal-lals for her cousin's arrival; for you
must come down with us to Hare Street when your business is done."

I cannot say that even after all this heartiness, I thought very much of
my Cousin Tom. He spoke too loud, I thought, on the common stair: but I
forgot all that when I came into the room that was already lighted with
a pair of wax candles and set eyes on my Cousin Dorothy, who stood up as
we came in, still in her riding-dress, with her whip and gloves on the
table. Now let me once and for all describe my Cousin Dorothy; and then
I need say no more. She was sixteen years old at this time--as her
father had just told me. She was of a pale skin, with blue eyes and
black lashes and black hair; but she too was greatly sunburnt, with the
haymaking (as her father presently told me again; for she spoke very
little after we had saluted one another). She was in a green skirt and a
skirted doublet of the same colour, and wore a green hat with a