lexandra's acetous remarks about some people who were always grabbing
as much as they could get. In their father's presence these
observations were omitted, and Mr Altham had but a faint idea of what
his orphan niece endured at the hands--or rather the tongues--of his
daughters, who never forgave her for being more gently born than
themselves.

Lammas Day dawned warm and bright, and after early mass in the Church of
Saint Mary at Strand--which nobody in those days would have dreamed of
missing on a saint's day--Amphillis placed herself at an upstairs window
to watch for her escort. She had not many minutes to wait, before two
horses came up the narrow lane from the Savoy Palace, and trotting down
the Strand, stopped at the patty-maker's door. After them came a
baggage-mule, whose back was fitted with a framework intended to sustain
luggage.

One horse carried a man attired in white linen, and the other bore a
saddle and pillion, the latter being then the usual means of conveyance
for a woman. On the saddle before it sat a middle-aged man in the royal
livery, which was then white and red. The man in linen alighted, and
after a few minutes spent in conversation with Mr Altham, he carried
out Amphillis's luggage, in two leather trunks, which were strapped one
on each side of the mule. As soon as she saw her trunks disappearing,
Amphillis ran down and took leave of her uncle and cousins.

"Well, my maid, God go with thee!" said Mr Altham. "Forget not thine
old uncle and these maids; and if thou be ill-usen, or any trouble hap
thee, pray the priest of thy parish to write me a line thereanent, and I
will see what can be done."

"Fare thee well, Phyllis!" said Alexandra, and Ricarda echoed the words.

Mr Altham helped his niece to mount the pillion, seated on which, she
had to put her arms round the waist of the man in front, and clasp her
hands together; for without this precaution, she would have been
unseated in ten minutes. There was nothing to keep her on, as she sat
with her left side to the horse's head, and roads in those days were
rough to an extent of which we, accustomed to macadamised ways, can
scarcely form an idea now.

And so, pursued for "luck" by an old shoe from Ricarda's hand, Amphillis
Neville took her leave of London, and rode forth into the wide world to
seek her fortune.

Passing along the Strand as far as the row of houses ran, at the Strand
Cross they turned to the left, and threading t