and sealed with the two seals on
red wax. There was something printed roughly with a quill pen upon each
bag, but Master Shakspere kept that side turned toward himself so that
the others could not see.

"Come, come, Will," broke in Master Jonson, "don't be all day about it!"

"The more haste the worse speed, Ben," said Master Shakspere, quietly.
"I have a little story to tell ye all."

So they all listened.

"When Gaston Carew, lately master-player of the Lord High Admiral's
company, was arraigned before my Lord Justice for the killing of that
rascal, Fulk Sandells, there was not a man of his own company had the
grace to lend him even so much as sympathy. But there were still some in
London who would not leave him totally friendless in such straits."

"Some?" interrupted Master Jonson, bluntly; "then o-n-e spells 'some.'
The names of them all were Will Shakspere."

"Tut, tut, Ben!" said Master Shakspere, and went on: "But when the
charge was read, and those against him showed their hand, it was easy to
see that the game was up. No one saw this any sooner than Carew himself;
yet he carried himself like a man, and confessed the indictment without
a quiver. They brought him the book, to read a verse and save his neck,
perhaps, by pleading benefit of clergy. But he knew the temper of those
against him, and that nothing might avail; so he refused the plea
quietly, saying, 'I am no clerk, sirs. All I wish to read in this case
is what my own hand wrote upon that scoundrel Sandells.' It was soon
over. When the judge pronounced his doom, all Carew asked was for a
friend to speak with a little while aside. This the court allowed; so he
sent for me--we played together with Henslowe, he and I, ye know. He had
not much to say--for once in his life,"--here Master Shakspere smiled
pityingly,--"but he sent his love forever to his only daughter Cicely."

Cicely was sitting up, listening with wide eyes, and eagerly nodded her
head as if to say, "Of course."

"He also begged of Nicholas Attwood that he would forgive him whatever
wrong he had done him."

"Why, that I will, sir," choked Nick, brokenly; "he was wondrous kind to
me, except that he would na leave me go."

"After that," continued Master Shakspere, "he made known to me a sliding
panel in the wainscot of his house, wherein was hidden all he had on
earth to leave to those he loved the best, and who, he hoped,
loved him."

"Everybody loves my father," said Cicely, smil