II

THE QUEEN'S PLAISANCE

It was a frosty morning when they all marched down to the boats that
bumped along Paul's wharf.

The roofs of London were white with frost and rosy with the dawn. In the
shadow of the walls the air lay in still pools of smoky blue; and in the
east the horizon stretched like a swamp of fire. The winking lights on
London Bridge were pale. The bridge itself stood cold and gray,
mysterious and dim as the stream below, but here and there along its
crest red-hot with a touch of flame from the burning eastern sky. Out of
the river, running inland with the tide, came steamy shreds that drifted
here and there. Then over the roofs of London town the sun sprang up
like a thing of life, and the veil of twilight vanished in bright day
with a million sparkles rippling on the stream.

Warm with piping roast and cordial, keen with excitement, and blithe
with the sharp, fresh air, the red-cheeked lads skipped and chattered
along the landing like a flock of sparrows alighted by chance in a land
of crumbs.

"Into the wherries, every one!" cried the old precentor. _"Ad unum
omnes_, great and small!"

"Into the wherries!" echoed the under-masters.

"Into the wherries, my bullies!" roared old Brueton the boatman, fending
off with a rusty hook as red as his bristling beard. "Into the wherries,
yarely all, and we's catch the turn o' the tide! 'Tis gone high
water now!"

Then away they went, three wherries full, and Master Gyles behind them
in a brisk sixpenny tilt-boat, resplendent in new ash-colored hose, a
cloak of black velvet fringed with gold, and a brand-new periwig curled
and frizzed like a brush-heap in a gale of wind.

How they had worked for the last few days! New songs, new dances, new
lines to learn; gallant compliments for the Queen, who was as fond of
flattery as a girl; new clothes, new slippers and caps to try, and a
thousand what-nots more. The school had hummed like a busy mill from
morning until night. And now that the grinding was done and they had
come at last to their reward,--the hoped-for summons to the court, which
had been sought so long in vain,--the boys of St. Paul's bubbled with
glee until the under-masters were in a cold sweat for fear their
precious charges would pop from the wherries into the Thames, like so
many exuberant corks.

They cheered with delight as London Bridge was shot and the boats went
flying down the Pool, past Billingsgate and the oystermen, the White