Master Skylark. A story of Shakspere's time ... Illustrations by R. B. Birch

Front matter

MASTER SKYLARK THOU SHALT HAVE THY WISH.' SAID QUEEN ELIZABETH. " ( Set p. 264 ) A Story of Shakspere's Time BY JOHN BENNETT ILLUSTRATIONS BY REGINALD B. BIRCH LONDON flDacmillan anfc Co,, Xft. ALL THAT NICHOLAS ATTWOOD'S MOTHER WAS TO HIM, AND MORE, MY OWN MOTHER HAS BEEN TO ME AND TO HER HERE I INSCRIBE THIS BOOK WITH A NEVER-FAILING LOVE CONTENTS Chapter page I The Lord Admiral's Players .... I H Nicholas Attwood's Home 13 HI The Last Straw 23 IV Off for Coventry 31 V In the Warwick Road 36 VI The Master-player 43 VU "Well Sung, Master Skylark!" . . . .51 VHI The Admiral's Company 58 IX The May-day Play 66 X After the Play 78 XI Disowned 84 XII A Strange Ride 91 XIH A Dash for Freedom 103 XIV At Bay 113 XV London Town 119 XVI Ma'm'selle Cicely Carew 132 XVTI Carew's Offer 145 XVIH Master Heywood Protests 156 XIX The Rose Play-house 165 XX Disappointment 174 XXI "The Children of Paul's" 182 XXH The Skylark's Song 191 CONTENTS Chapter page XXIH A New Life 201 XXIV The Making of a Player 209 XXV The Waning of the Year 222 XXVI To Sing before the Queen 233 XXVII The Queen's Plaisance 243 XXVHI Christmas with Queen Bess .... 252 XXTX Back to Gaston Carew 266 XXX At the Falcon Inn 274 XXXI In the Twinkling of an Eye 281 XXXH The Last of Gaston Carew .... 291 XXXIH Cicely Disappears 305 XXXTV The Bandy-legged Man 311 XXXV A Sudden Resolve 327 XXXVI Wayfaring Home 336 XXXVH Turned .Adrift 350 XXXVHI A Strange Day 356 XXXIX All 's Well that Ends Well . . . .366 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS " 'Master Skylark, Thou shalt Have thy Wish,' Said Queen Elklabeth" Frontispiece PAGE "Punts were Poling Slowly up the Avon to the Bridge" 3 The Lord Admiral's Players.

" The Trumpeters and the Drummers Led, their Horses Prancing, White Plumes Waving in the Breeze" 9 Nick Attwood's Father 19 " ' Whur Be-est Going, Nick f ' Asked Roger Dawson " . 33 "Hodge Found Himself Stretched on the Grass, Nick Attwood Bending over Him" 41 "'What! How Now?' Cried the Stranger, Sharply. 'Dost Like or Like Me Not?'" 47 "'Master Nicholas Skylark, the Sweetest Singer in all the Kingdom of England 1 ' " 61 " Nick Thought of his Mother's Singing on a Summer's Evening — Drew a Deep Breath and Began to Sing" 71 "Some Fine Ladies Came and Kissed Him, to ms Great Confusion" 75 "'How Now, Sirrah!

Dost Think I Cannot Pay thy Score?'" 81 " 'One Were thy Nick, Muster Attwood,' Said He" . 87 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS X PAGE " They Overtook Him as He Topped the Hill, and, Leaning Over, Carew Snatched the Bridle from his Hand" " " Of Wretched Beggars and Tattered Rogues there was an Endless String" 1°7 " ' Nobody Breaks Nobody's Hearts in Old Jo-ohn Smithses Sho-op,' Drawled the Smith, ln his Deep Voice; 'nor Steals Nobody, Nother'" 115 " ' Let Me Out ! ' He Cried, Beating upon the Door. ' Let Me Out, I Say!'" 129 "Cicely Darted to his Side with a Frightened Cry" . 141 "This was Old St. Paul's, the Meeting-place of London Town" 147 "Diccon had Often Made Nick Whistles from the Willows along the Avon when Nick was a Toddler" . 153 Nick and Master Carew at Blackfriars Landing . . 159 "Nick Put One Leg over the Sill and Looked Back" . 171 " 'Ztop Un, Ztop Un, Do Now!' Said the Workman" . 179 "'Oh, Nick, Thou art Most Beautiful to See!' Cried Cicely" 185 " ' That Voice, that Voice ! ' Nat Giles Panted to Himself" 197 "As They Came Abeam, Carew, Rising, Doffed his Hat, and Bowed Politely to Them All" .... 205 M'sieu de Fleury Teaches Nick to Dance and to Bow. 213 "It Made a Picture Quaint and Pretty to See Them Dancing There" 217 "Nick Gave the Silver Buckle from his Cloak to a Boy who Stood Crying with Cold and Hunger in the Street" 227 '"We're Going to Court!

Chapter I The Lord Admiral's Players There

was an unwonted buzzing in the east end of Stratford on that next to the last day of Aprd, 1596. It was as if some one had thrust a stick into a hive of bees and they had come whirling out to see. The low stone guard-waU of old Clopton bridge, budt a hundred years before by rich Sir Hugh, sometime Mayor of London, was lined with straddling boys, like strawber ries upon a spear of grass, and along the low causeway from the west across the lowland to the town, brown-faced, barefoot youngsters sat beside the roadway with their chubby legs a-dangle down the mossy stones, staring away into the south across the grassy levels of the vaUey of the Stour. Punts were poling slowly up the Avon to the bridge ; and at the outlets of the town, where the streets came down to the waterside among the weeds, httle knots of men and serving-maids stood looking into the south and listening. 1 ■2 Some had waited for an hour, some for two ; yet stdl there was no sound but the piping of the birds in white thorn hedges, the hoUow lowing of kine knee-deep in grassy meadows, and the long rush of the river through the sedge beside the pebbly shore ; and naught to see but quiet vaUeys, primrose lanes, and Warwick orchards white with bloom, stretching away to the misty hills.

But stdl they stood and looked and Ustened. The wind came stealing up out of the south, soft and warm and sweet and stdl, moving the ripples upon the river with gray gusts ; and, scudding free before the wind, a dog came trotting up the road with wet pink tongue and sidelong gait. At the throat of Clopton bridge he stopped and scanned the way with dubious eye, then clapped his tad between his legs and bolted for the town. The laughing shout that foUowed him into the Warwick road seemed not to die away, but to linger in the air like the drowsy hum of bees— a hum that came and went at intervals upon the shifting wind, and grew by littles, taking body tiU it came unbroken as a long, low, distance-muffled mur mur from the south, so faint as scarcely to be heard. Nick Attwood pricked his keen young ears.

" They 're coming, Robin— hark 'e to the trampling ! " Robin Getley held his breath and turned his ear toward the south. The far-off murmur was a mutter now, defined and positive, and, as the two friends Ustened, grew into a drumming roll, and aU at once above it came a shrdl, high sound like the buzzing of a gnat close by the ear. Little Tom Davenant dropped from the finger-post, and "PUNTS WERE POLING SLOWLY UP THE AVON To THE BKIDGE." came running up from the fork of the Banbury road, his feet making httle white puffs in the dust as he flew. " They are coming ! they are coming ! " he shrieked as he ran. Then up to his feet sprang Robin Getley, upon the saddle-backed coping-stones, his hand upon Nick Att wood's head to steady himself, and looked away where the rippling Stour ran hke a thread of sdver beside the dust-buff London road, and the httle church of Atherstone stood blue against the rolling Cotswold Hdls.

" They are coming ! they are coming ! " shrdled Uttle Tom, and scrambled up the coping hke a squirrel up a rad. A stir ran out along the guard-waU, some crying out, some starting up. " Sit down ! sit down ! " cried others, peering askance at the water gurgling green down below. " Sit down, or we shaU all be off ! " Robin held his hand above his eyes. A cloud of dust was rising from the London road and drifting off across the fields like smoke when the old ricks burn in damp weather— a long, broad-sheeted mist ; and in it were bits of moving gold, shreds of bright colors vaguely seen, and sdvery gleams like the ghtter of pohshed metal in the sun. And as he looked the shifty* wind came down out of the west again and whirled the cloud of dust away, and there he saw a long line of men upon horses coming at an easy canter up the highway.

Just as he had made tbis out the line came rattling to a stop, the distant drumming of hoofs was stid, and as the long file knotted itself into a rosette of ruddy color amid the Aprd green, a clear, shrdl trumpet blew and blew again. " They are coming ! " shouted Robin, " they are com ing ! " and, turning, waved his cap. A shout went up along the bridge. Those down below came clambering up, the punts came pohng with a rush of foam, and a ripple ran along the edge of Stratford town like the wind through a field of wheat. Windows creaked and doors swung wide, and the workmen stopped in the garden-plots to lean upon their mattocks and to look. " They are coming ! " beUowed Rase Hickathrift, the butcher's boy, standing far out in the street, with his red hands to his mouth for a trumpet, " they are coming !

" and at that the doors of Bridge street grew alive with eager eyes. At early dawn the Oxford carrier had brought the news that the players of the Lord High Admiral were coming up to Stratford out of London from the south, to play on May-day there ; and this was what had set the town to buzzing like a swarm. For there were in England then but three great companies, the High Chamberlain's, the Earl of Pembroke's men, and the stage-players of my Lord Charles Howard, High Admiral of the Realm ; and the day on which they came into a Midland market-town to play was one to mark with red and gold upon the calendar of the uneventful year. Away by the old mdl-bridge there were fishermen angling for dace and perch; but when the shout came down from the London road they dropped their poles and ran, through the widows and over the gravel, splashing and thrashing among the rushes and sandy shadows, not to be last when the players came.

And old John Carter, coming down the Warwick road with a load of hay, laid on the lash untd piebald Dobbin snorted in dismay and broke into a lumbering run to reach the old stone bridge in time. The distant horsemen now were coming on again, riding in double file. They had flung their banners to the breeze, and on the changing wind, with the thumping of horses' hoofs, came by snatches the sound of a kettledrummer drawing his drumhead tight, and beating as he drew, and the muffled blasts of a trumpeter proving his hps. Fynes Morrison and Walter Stirley, who had gone to Cowslip lane to meet the march, were running on ahead, and shouting as they ran : " There 's forty men, and sumpter-mules ! and, oh, the bravest banners and attire — and the trumpets are a cloth-yard long ! Make room for us, make room for us, and let us up !

" A bowshot off, the trumpets blew a blast so high, so clear, so keen, that it seemed a flame of fire in the air, and as the brassy fanfare died away across the roofs of the quiet town, the kettledrums clanged, the cymbals clashed, and aU the company began to sing the famous old song of the hunt : The hunt is up, the hunt is up, Sing merrily we, the hunt is up ! The wild birds sing, The dun deer fling, The forest aisles with music ring ! Tantara, tantara, tantara ! i» "Then ride along, ride along, Stout and strong ! Farewell to grief and care ; With a rollicking cheer For the high dun deer And a life in the open air ! Tantara, the hunt is up, lads ; Tantara, the bugles bray ! Tantara, tantara, tantara, Hio, hark away ! " The first of the riders had reached old Clopton bridge, and the banners strained upon their staves in the freshen ing river-wind.

The trumpeters and the drummers led, their horses prancing, white plumes waving in the breeze, and the Aprd sunhght dancing on the brazen horns and the sdver bellies of the kettledrums. Then came the banners of the company, curling down with a silky swish, and unfurling again with a snap, like a broad-lashed whip. The greatest one was rosy red, and on it was a gaUant ship upon a flowing sea, bearing upon its mainsad the arms of my Lord Charles Howard, High Admiral of England. Upon its mate was a giant-bearded man with a fish's tad, holding a trident in his hand and blowing upon a shed, the Triton of the seas which Eng land ruled ; this flag was bright sea-blue. The third was white, and on it was a red wdd rose with a golden heart, the common standard of the company. .After the flags came twoscore men, the players of the Admiral, the tiring-men, grooms, horse-boys, and serving knaves, weU mounted on good horses, and aU of them clad "THE TRUMPETERS AND THE DRUMMERS LED, THEIR HORSES PRANCING, WHITE PLUMES WAVING IN THE BREEZE." in scarlet tabards blazoned with the coat-armor of then master.

Upon their caps they wore the famous badge of the Howards, a rampant sdver demi-lion; and beneath their tabards at the side could be seen their jerkins of many-colored silk, their sdver-buckled belts, and long, thin Spanish rapiers, slapping their horses on the flanks at every stride. Their legs were cased in high-topped riding boots of tawny cordovan, with gdt spurs, and the housings of their saddles were of blue with the gdt anchors of the admiralty upon them. On their bridles were jingling bits of steel, which made a constant tinkling, like a thousand little beUs very far away. Some had faces smooth as boys and were quite young ; and others wore sharp-pointed beards with stiff -waxed mus taches, and were older men, with a tinge of iron in their hair and Unes of iron in their faces, hardened by the life they led ; and some, again, were smooth-shaven, so often and so closely that their faces were blue with the beard beneath the skin.

But, oh, to Nicholas Attwood and the rest of Stratford boys, they were a dashing, rakish, admirable lot, with the air of something even greater than lords, and a keen knowingness in their sparkling, worldly eyes that made a common wise man seem almost a fool beside them ! .Aand so they came riding up out of the south : "Then ride along, ride along, Stout and strong ! Farewell to grief and care ; With a rollicking cheer For the high dun deer And a life in the open air ! " " Hurrah ! hurrah ! God save the Queen ! " A dropping shout went up the street hke an arrow-flight scattering over the throng ; and the players, waving their scarlet caps untd the long line tossed like a poppy-garden in a summer rain, gave a cheer that fairly set the crockery to dancing upon the shelves of the staUs in Middle Row.

" Hurrah ! " shouted Nicholas Attwood, his blue eyes shining with dehght. " Hurrah, hurrah, for the Admiral's men ! " And high in the air he threw his cap, as a wdd cheer broke from the eddying crowd, and the arches of the long gray bridge rang hoUow with the tread of hoofs. Whiff, came the wind ; down dropped the hat upon the very saddle-peak of one taU feUow riding along among the rest. Catching it quickly as it feU, he laughed and tossed it back; and when Nick caught it whirling in the air, a shdling jingled from it to the ground. Then up Fore Bridge street they aU trooped after into Stratford town. " Oh," cried Robin, " it is brave, brave ! " " Brave , " cried Nick. " It makes my very heart jump. And see, Robin, 't is a shilling, a real sdver shdling— oh, what feUows they aU be! Hurrah for the Lord High Admiral's men ! "

Chapter II Nicholas Attwood's Home Nick

Attwood's father came home that night bitterly wroth. The burgesses of the town councd had ordered him to build a chimney upon his house, or pay ten shillings fine ; and shillings were none too plenty with Simon Attwood, the tanner of Old Town. " Soul and body o' man ! " said he, " they talk as if they owned the world, and a man could na hve upon it save by their leave. I must budd my fire in a pipe, or pay ten shilhngs fine ? Things ha' come to a pretty pass— a pretty pass, indeed ! " He kicked the rushes that were strewn upon the floor, and ground the clay with his heel. " This htter wiU ha' to be aU took out. Atkins wdl be here at six i' the morning to do the job, and a lovely mess he wdl make o' the house ! " " Do na fret thee, Simon," said Mistress Attwood, gently. " The rushes need a changing, and I ha' pined this long whde to lay the floor wi' new clay from Shottery common. 'T is the sweetest earth !

Nick shaU take the hangings down, and right things up when the chimley 's done." So at cockcrow next morning Nick slipped out of his straw bed, into his clothes, and down the winding stair, whde his parents were stdl asleep in the loft, and, sousing his head in the bucket at the wed, began his work before the old town clock in the chapel tower had yet struck four. The rushes had not been changed since Easter, and were fud of dust and grease from the cooking and the table. Even the fresher sprigs of mint among them smeUed stale and old. When they were aU in the barrow, Nick sighed with rehef and wiped his hands upon the dripping grass. It had rained in the night,— a soft, warm rain,— and the air was fuU of the smeU of the apple-bloom and pear from the little orchard behind the house. The bees were already humming about the straw-bound hives along the garden waU, and a misguided green woodpecker clung upside down to the eaves, and thumped at the beams of the house.

It was very stid there in the gray of the dawn. He could hear the rush of the water through the sedge in the mid-race, and then, aU at once, the roU of the wheel, the low rumble of the mid-gear, and the cool whisper of the wind in the widows. When he went back into the house again the painted cloths upon the waU seemed dingier than ever compared with the clean, bright world outside. The sky-blue coat of the Prodigal Son was brown with the winter's smoke ; the Red Sea towered above Pharaoh's id-starred host hke NICHOLAS ATTWOOD'S HOME 15 an inky mountain; and the homely maxims on the next breadth— " Do no Wrong," " Beware of Sloth," " Overcome Pride," and " Keep an Eye on the Pence "—could scarcely be read. Nick jumped up on the three-legged stool and began to take them down. The nads were crooked and jammed in the waU, and the last came out with an unexpected jerk.

Losing his balance, Nick caught at the table-board which leaned against the wad ; but the stool capsized, and he came down on the floor with such a flap of tapestry that the ashes flew out aU over the room. He sat up dazed, and rubbed his elbows, then looked around and began to laugh. He could hear heavy footsteps overhead. A door opened, and his father's voice caUed sternly from the head of the stair : " What madcap f ody art thou up to now ? " " I be up to no f oUy at aU," said Nick, " but down, sir. I feU from the stool. There 's no harm done." " Then be about thy business," said Attwood, coming slowly down the stairs. He was a gaunt man, smelling of leather and un tanned hides. His short iron-gray hair grew low down upon his forehead, and his hooked nose, grim wide mouth, and heavy under jaw gave him a look at once forbidding and severe.

His doublet of serge and his fustian hose were stained with hquor from the vats, and his eyes were heavy with sleep. The smde faded from Nick's face. " Shad I throw the rushes into the street, sir ? " " Nay ; take them to the muck-hid. The burgesses ha' made a great to-do about folk throwing trash into the highways. Soul and body o' man ! " he growled, " a man must ask if he may breathe. And good hides going a-begging, too ! " Nick hurried away, for he dreaded his father's suden moods. The swine were squealing in their styes, the cattle bawled about the straw-thatched barns in Chapel lane, and long files of gabbling ducks waddled hurriedly down to the river through the primroses under the hedge. He could hear the mdkmaids calling in the meadows; and when he trundled slowly home the smoke was creeping up in pale-blue threads from the draught-holes in the waU.

The tanner's house stood a Uttle back from the thor oughfare, in that part of Stratford-on-Avon where the south end of Church street turns from Bud lane toward the river. It was roughly budt of timber and plaster, the black beams showing through the yeUow lime in curious squares and triangles. The roof was of red tdes, and where the spreading elms leaned over it the peaked gable was green with moss. At the side of the house was a garden of lettuce ; be yond the garden a rough waU on which the grass was growing. Sometimes wdd primroses grew on top of this wad, and once a yedow daffodd. Beyond the wall were other gardens owned by thrifty neighbors, and open lands in common to them aU, where foot-paths wandered here and there in a free, haphazard way. NICHOLAS ATTWOOD'S HOME 17 Behind the house was a well and a wood-pde, and along the lane ran a whitewashed paling fence with a httle gate, from which the path went up to the door through rows of bright, old-fashioned flowers.

Nick's mother was getting the breakfast. She was a gentle woman with a sweet, kind face, and a httle air of quiet dignity that made her doubly dear to Nick by con trast with his father's unkempt ways. He used to think that, in her worsted gown, with its falling coUar of Ant werp Unen, and a soft, silken coif upon her fading hair, she was the most beautiful woman in aU the world. She put one arm about bis shoulders, brushed back his curly hair, and kissed him on the forehead. " Thou art mine own good little son," said she, tenderly, "and I wdl bake thee a cake in the new chimley on the morrow for thy May-day feast." Then she helped him fetch the trestles from the buttery, set the board, spread the cloth, and lay the wooden plat ters, pewter cups, and old horn spoons in place. Break fast being ready, she then caded his father from the yard.

Nick waited deftly upon them both, so that they were soon done with the simple meal of rye-bread, lettuce, cheese, and milk. As he carried away the empty platters and brought water and a towel for them to wash their hands, he said quietly, although his eyes were bright and eager, "The Lord High Admiral's company is to act a stage-play at the guddhad to-morrow before Master Davenant the Mayor and the town burgesses." Simon Attwood said nothing, but his brows drew down. "They came yestreen from London town by Oxford way to play in Stratford and at Coventry, and are at the Swan Inn with Master Geoffrey Inchbold— oh, ever so many of them, in scarlet jerkins, and cloth of gold, and doublets of sdk laced up like any lord ! It is a very good company, they say." Mistress Attwood looked quickly at her husband.

" What wdl they play ? " she asked. "I can na say surely, mother — ' Tamburlane,' perhaps, or ' The Troublesome Reign of Old King John.' The play wdl be free, father— may I go, sir ? " ".And lose thy time from school?" " There is no school to-morrow, sir." " Then have ye naught to do, that ye waste the day in idle foUy . " asked the tanner, sternly. "I wdl do my work beforehand, sir," rephed Nick, quietly, though his hand trembled a httle as he brushed up the crumbs. " It is May-day, Simon," interceded Mistress Attwood, " and a bit of pleasure wid na harm the lad." "Pleasure?" said the tanner, sharply. "If he does na find pleasure enough in his work, his book, and his home, he shad na seek it of low rogues and strolling scape graces." " But, Simon," said Mistress Attwood, " 't is the Lord Admiral's own company— surely they are not aU graceless !

And," she continued with very quiet dignity, " since mine own cousin .Ajine Hathaway married WiU Shakspere the NICK ATTWOOD'S FATHER. NICHOLAS ATTWOOD'S HOME 21 play-actor, 't is scarcely kind to caU aU players rogues and low." "No more o' this, Margaret," cried Attwood, flushing angrily. "Thou art ever too ready with the boy's part against me. He shaU na go— I 'U find a thing or two for him to do among the vats that wdl take this taste for idleness out of his mouth. He shad na go : so that be aU there is on it." Rising abruptly, he left the room. Nick clenched his hands. " Nicholas," said his mother, softly. " Yes, mother," said he ; "I know. But he should na flout thee so ! .And, mother, the Queen goes to the play —father himself saw her at Coventry ten years ago. Is what the Queen does idle foUy ?

" His mother took him by the hand and drew bim to her side, with a smde that was half a sigh. " Art thou the Queen ? " "Nay," said he; "and it 's aU the better for England, like enough. But surely, mother, it can na be wrong—" " To honour thy father ? " said she, quickly, laying her finger across his Ups. "Nay, lad; it is thy bounden duty." Nick turned and looked up at her wonderingly. " Mother," said he, " art thou an angel come down out of heaven ? " "Nay," she answered, patting his flushed cheek; "I be only the every-day mother of a fierce httle son who hath many a hard, hard lesson to learn. Now eat thy breakfast—thou hast been up a long whde." Nick kissed her impetuously and sat down, but his heart stdl rankled within him. .Ad Stratford would go to the play. He could hear the murmur of voices and music, the bursts of laughter and applause, the tramp of happy feet going up the guddhad stairs to the Mayor's show.

Everybody went in free at the Mayor's show. The other boys could stand on stools and see it all. They could hold horses at the gate of the inn at the September fair, and so see aU the farces. They could see the famous Norwich puppet-play. But he— what pleasure did he ever have . A tawdry pageant by a lot of clumsy country bumpkins at Whitsuntide or Pentecost, or a sdly school-boy masque at Christmas, with the master scolding like a heathen Turk. It was not fair. And now he 'd have to work aU May-day. May-day out of aU the year ! Why, there was to be a May-pole and a morris-dance, and a roasted calf, too, in Master Wainwright's field, since Margery was chosen Queen of the May. And Peter Finch was to be Robin Hood, and Nan Rogers Maid Marian, and wear a lrirtle of Kendal green— and, oh, but the May-pole would be brave ; high as the ridge of the guildschool roof, and hung with ribbons hke a rainbow!

Geoffrey Had was to lead the dance, too, and the other boys and girls would all be there. .And where would he be? Sousing hides in the tannery vats. Truly his father was a hard man ! He pushed the cheese away.

Chapter III The Last Straw Iittle

John Summer had a new horn-book that cost J a sdver penny. The handle was carven and the horn was clear as honey. The other httle boys stood round about in speechless envy, or murmured their A B C's and " ba be bi's" along the chapel steps. The lower-form boys were playing leap-frog past the almshouse, and Geoffrey Gosse and the vicar's son were in the pubhc gravel-pit, throwing stones at the robins in the Great House elms across the lane. Some few duU feUows sat upon the steps behind the school-house, anxiously poring over their books. But the larger boys of the Fable Class stood in an excited group beneath the shadow of the overhanging second story of the grammar-school, talking aU at once, each louder than the other, untd the noise was deafening. " Oh, Nick, such goings on ! " caUed Robin Getley, whose father was a burgess, as Nick Attwood came slowly up the street, saying his sentences for the day over and over to himself in hopeless desperation, having had no 2 time to learn them at home.