ss the nave those little figures seated in front of the
blacksmith's window. An atmosphere of comfort and thrift filled St.
Bat's. It was the abode of labor and humble prosperity, not an asylum of
poverty. Great worthies, indeed, such as John Milton, and nearer our own
day, Washington Irving, did not disdain to live in St. Bartholomew's
close. The two British matrons, therefore, spoke the prejudice of the
better rather than the baser class.

"The little devils!" said one woman.

"They look innocent," remarked the other. "But these French do make my
back crawl!"

"How long are they going to stay in St. Bat's?"

"The two men with the little girl and the servant intend to sail for
America next week. The lad, and the man that brought him in--as
dangerous looking a foreigner as ever I saw!--are like to prowl out any
time. I saw them go into the smithy, and I went over to ask the smith's
wife about them. She let two upper chambers to the creatures this
morning."

"What ails the lad? He has the look of an idiot."

"Well, then, God knows what ails any of the crazy French! If they all
broke out with boils like the heathen of scripture, it would not
surprise a Christian. As it is, they keep on beheading one another, day
after day and month after month; and the time must come when none of
them will be left--and a satisfaction that will be to respectable
folks!"

"First the king, and then the queen," mused one speaker. "And now news
comes that the little prince has died of bad treatment in his prison.
England will not go into mourning for him as it did for his father, King
Louis. What a pretty sight it was, to see every decent body in a bit of
black, and the houses draped, they say, in every town! A comfort it must
have been to the queen of France when she heard of such Christian
respect!"

The women's faces, hard in texture and rubicund as beef and good ale
could make them, leaned silent a moment high above the dim pavement. St.
Bat's little bell struck the three quarters before ten; lightly,
delicately, with always a promise of the great booming which should
follow on the stroke of the hour. Its perfection of sound contrasted
with the smithy clangor of metal in process of welding. A butcher's boy
made his way through the front entrance toward a staircase, his feet
echoing on the flags, carrying exposed a joint of beef on the board upon
his head.

"And how do your foreigners behave themselves, Mrs. Blake?" inquired the