ye
will na come for mine?"

Nick started from his seat with a glad cry--then stopped. "But Cicely?"
he said.

The tanner wrung his hat within his hands, and his face was dark with
trouble. Master Shakspere looked at Master Jonson.

Nick stood hesitating between Cicely and his father, faithful to his
promise, though his heart was sick for home.

An odd light had been struggling dimly in Simon Attwood's troubled eyes.
Then all at once it shone out bright and clear, and he clapped his bony
hand upon the stout oak chair. "Bring her along," he said. "I ha' little
enough, but I will do the best I can. Maybe 'twill somehow right the
wrong I ha' done," he added huskily. "And, neighbors, I'll go surety to
the Council that she shall na fall a pauper or a burden to the town. My
trade is ill enough, but, sirs, it will stand for forty pound the year
at a fair cast-up. Bring the lass wi' thee, Nick--we'll make out, lad,
we'll make out. God will na let it all go wrong."

Master Jonson and Master Shakspere had been nodding and talking together
in a low tone, smiling like men very well pleased about something, and
directly Master Shakspere left the room.

"Wilt thou come, lad?" asked the tanner, holding out his hands.

"Oh, father!" cried Nick; then he choked so that he could say no more,
and his eyes were so full of mist that he could scarcely find his father
where he stood.

But there was no need of more; Simon Attwood was answered.

Voices buzzed about the room. The servants whispered in the hall. Nick
held his father's gnarled hand in his own, and looked curiously up into
his face, as if for the first time knowing what it was to have a father.

"Well, lad, what be it?" asked the tanner, huskily, laying his hand on
his son's curly head, which was nearly up to his shoulder now.

"Nothing," said Nick, with a happy smile, "only mother will be glad to
have Cicely--won't she?"

Master Shakspere came into the room with something in his hand, and
walking to the table, laid it down.

It was a heavy buckskin bag, tied tightly with a silken cord, and sealed
with red wax stamped with the seals of Master Shakspere and
Master Jonson.

Every one was watching him intently, and one or two of the gentlemen
from London were smiling in a very knowing way.

He broke the seals, and loosening the thong which closed the bag, took
out two other bags, one of which was just double its companion's size.
They also were tied with silken cord