shen!" Rebecca exclaimed at last. "Why in goodness' name
does all the folks throw sech messes out in the street?"

"Why, where would you have them throw them, dame?" asked her companion,
in surprise. "Are ye outlandish bred that ye put me such questions?"

"Not much!" she retorted, hotly. "It's you folks that's outlandish. Why,
where I come from they hev sewers in the city streets an' pavements an'
sidewalks an' trolley cars. Guess I've ben to Keene, an' I ought to
know."

She tossed her head with the air of one who has said something
conclusive.

The man held his peace for a moment, dumfounded. Then he laughed
heartily, with head thrown back.

"That's what comes of a kittenish hoyden for a mistress. Abroad too
early, dame, and strong ale before sunrise! These have stolen away your
wits and made ye hold strange discourse. Sewers--side-walkers
forsooth--troll carries, ho--ho!"

Rebecca grew red with fury. She released her hold to thump her companion
twice on the arm and nearly fell from the horse in consequence.

"You great rascal!" she cried, indignantly. "How dare ye talk 'bout
drinkin' ale! D'you s'pose I'd touch the nasty stuff? Me--a member of
the Woman's Christian Temperance Union! Me--a Daughter of Temperance an'
wearin' the blue ribbon! You'd ought to be ashamed, that's what you
ought!"

But the servant continued to laugh quietly and Rebecca raged within. Oh
how she hated to have to sit thus close behind a man who had so insulted
her! Clinging to him, too! Clinging for dear life to a man who accused
her of drinking ale!

They turned to the left into Leadenhall Street and Bucklesbury, where
the two women sniffed with delighted relief the spicy odor of the herbs
exposed on every hand for sale. They left Gresham's Royal Exchange on
the right, and shortly afterward stopped before the door of one of the
many well-to-do houses of that quarter.

Sir Guy and the two women dismounted, and, while the groom held the
horses, the others approached the building before which they had
paused.

Rebecca was about to address Phoebe, whose blushing face was beaming
with pleasure, when the door was suddenly thrown open and a
happy-looking buxom woman of advanced middle age appeared.

"Well--well--well!" she cried, holding up her fat hands in mock
amazement. "Out upon thee, Polly, for a light-headed wench!
What--sneaking out to an early tryst! Fie, girl!"

"Now, good mine aunt," Phoebe broke in, with a smile and a cur