head around to find her
mistress.

"Good Bess--good old mare!" she said, gently, gazing pensively at the
letter.

How well she knew every wrinkle in that paper, every curve in the clumsy
superscription. Full well she knew its contents, too; for had she not
read this very note to Copernicus Droop at the North Pole? However,
partly that he might not be set to asking questions, partly in
curiosity, she unfolded the paper.

"DEAR POLL"--it began--"I'm starting behind the grays for London on my
way to be knighted by her Majesty. I send this ahead by Gregory on Bess,
she being fast enow for my purpose, which is to get thee out of the
clutches of that ungodly aunt of thine. I know her tricks, and I learn
how she hath suffered that damned milk-and-water popinjay to come
courting my Poll. So see you follow Gregory, mistress, and without wait
or parley come with him to the Peacock Inn, where I lie to-night.

"The grays are in fine fettle, and thy black mare grows too fat for want
of exercise. Thy mother-in-law commands thy instant return with Gregory,
having much business forward with preparing gowns and fal lals against
our presentation to her Majesty.--Thy father, Isaac Burton, of Burton
Hall.

"Thy mother thinks thou wilt make better speed if I make thee to know
that the players thou wottest of are to stop at the Peacock Inn and will
be giving some sport there."

"The players!" she exclaimed, eagerly. "Be these the Lord Chamberlain's
men?" she asked. "Is there not among them one Will Shakespeare, Gregory?
What play give they to-night?"

"All one to me, mistress," said Gregory, slowly dismounting. "There be
players at the Peacock, for the kitchen wench told me of them as I
stopped there for a pint; but be they the Lord Chamberlain's or the
Queen's, I cannot tell."

"Do they play at the Shoreditch Theatre or at the inn, good Gregory?"

"I' faith I know not, mistress," he replied, bracing his brawny right
hand, palm up, at his knee.

Mechanically she put one foot into his palm and sprang lightly upon the
pillion behind the groom's saddle.

As they turned and started at a jog trot northward, she remembered her
sister and her new-found aunt.

"Hold--hold, Gregory!" she cried. "What of Rebecca? What of my aunt--my
gowns?"

"I am to send an ostler from the Peacock for your nurse and clothing,
mistress," said Gregory. "My orders was not to wait for aught, but bring
you back instant quickly wheresoever I found you