ry good
company, they say."

Mistress Attwood looked quickly at her husband. "What will they play?"
she asked.

"I can na say surely, mother--'Tamburlane,' perhaps, or 'The Troublesome
Reign of Old King John.' The play will 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 folly?" asked
the tanner, sternly.

"I will do my work beforehand, sir," replied Nick, quietly, though his
hand trembled a little as he brushed up the crumbs.

"It is May-day, Simon," interceded Mistress Attwood, "and a bit of
pleasure will 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 shall na seek it of low
rogues and strolling scape-graces."

"But, Simon," said Mistress Attwood, "'tis the Lord Admiral's own
company--surely they are not all graceless! And," she continued with
very quiet dignity, "since mine own cousin Anne Hathaway married Will
Shakspere the play-actor, 'tis scarcely kind to call all 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 shall na go--I'll find
a thing or two for him to do among the vats that will take this taste
for idleness out of his mouth. He shall na go: so that be all 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 folly?"

His mother took him by the hand and drew him to her side, with a smile
that was half a sigh. "Art thou the Queen?"

"Nay," said he; "and it's all 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
lips. "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 little son who hath many a hard, hard lesson to
learn. Now eat thy breakfast--thou hast been up a long while."

Nick kissed her impetuously and sat down, but his heart still rankled
within him.