The Kings Daughters | Page 3

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 Colchester, but at Much Bentley, about eight miles from the town, in a south-easterly direction.
"I marvel," said Margaret, as the two pursued their way across the heath, "how Bessy Foulkes shall make way with them twain."
"Do you so?" answered Alice. "Truly, I marvel more how she shall make way with the third."
"What, Mistress Amy?"
Alice nodded.
"But why? There's no harm in her, trow?"
"She means no harm," said Alice. "But there's many an one, Meg, as doesn't mean a bit of harm, and does a deal for all that. I'm feared for Bessy."
"But I can't see what you're feared for."
"These be times for fear," said Alice Mount. "Neighbour, have you forgot last August?"
"Eh! no, trust me!" cried Margaret. "Didn't I quake for fear, when my master came in, and told me you were taken afore the justices! Truly, I reckoned he and I should come the next. I thank the good Lord that stayed their hands!"
"'Tis well we be on the Heath," said Alice, glancing round, as if to see whether they could be overheard. "If we spake thus in the streets of Colchester, neighbour, it should cost us dear."
"Well, I do hate to be so careful!"
"Folks cannot have alway what they would," said Alice, "But you know, neighbour, Bessy Foulkes is one of us."
"Well, what then? So's Master Clere."
Alice made no answer.
"What mean you, Alice Mount? Master Clere's a Gospeller, and has been this eight years or more."
"I did not gainsay it, Meg."
"Nay, you might not gainsay it, but you looked as if you would if you opened your mouth."
"Well, neighbour, my brother at Stoke Nayland sells a horse by nows and thens: and the last time I was yonder, a gentleman came to buy one. There was a right pretty black one, and a bay not quite so well-looking. Says the gentleman to Gregory, `I'd fainer have the black, so far as looks go; but which is the better horse?' Quoth Gregory, `Well, Master, that hangs on what you mean to do with him. If you look for him to make a pretty picture in your park, and now and then to carry you four or five mile, why, he'll do it as well as e'er a one; but if you want him for good, stiff work, you'd best have the bay. The black's got no stay in him,' saith he. So, Meg, that's what I think of Master Clere--he's got no stay in him. I doubt he's but one of your fair-weathered folks, that'll side with Truth when she steps bravely forth in her satin gown and her velvet slippers; but when she comes in a threadbare gown and old clouted shoes, then she's not for their company. There's a many of that sort."
"And you think Master Clere's one?" said Margaret, in a tone which sounded as if she did not think so.
"I'm feared he is.