unstuffed cloth hose, dark worsted stockings, shoes with
narrow toes and plain shoe-strings of black ribbon; a flat cap; cloth
gloves, unadorned and unscented, and a cloak of black cloth, of a more
rational length than the other. As he came to the tailor's shop he
halted suddenly.

"Aubrey!" The tone was one of surprise and pain.

"Spy!" was the angry response.

"I am no spy, and you know it. But I would ask what you do here and
now?"

"Are you my gaoler, that I must needs give account to you?"

"I am your brother, Aubrey; and I, as well as you, am my brother's
keeper in so far as concerns his welfare. It is over a month since you
visited us, and your mother and Lady Lettice believe you to be with your
Lord in Essex. How come you hither, so late at night, and at another
door than your own?"

"No business of yours! May a man not call to see his tailor?"

"Men do not commonly go to their tailors after shops be shut."

"Oh, of course, you wot all touching shop matters. Be off to your
grograne and cambric! I'm not your apprentice."

"My master's shop is shut with the rest. Aubrey, I saw you last night--
though till now I tried to persuade myself it was not you--in Holborn,
leaving the door of the Green Dragon. What do you there?"

The answer came blazing with wrath.

"You saw--you mean, sneaking, blackguardly traitor of a Dutch
shopkeeper! I'll have no rascal spies dogging my steps, and--"

"Aubrey," said the quiet voice that made reply, "you know me better than
that. I never played the spy on you yet, and I trust you will never
give me cause. Yet what am I to think when as I pass along the street I
behold you standing at the door of a Pa--"

"Hold your tongue!"

The closing word was cut sharply in two by that fierce response. It
might be a pavior, a pear-monger, or a Papist. Hans was silent until
Aubrey had again spoken, which he did in a hard, constrained tone.

"I shall go where I please, without asking your leave or any body's
else! I am of age, and I have been tied quite long enough to the
apron-strings of a parcel of women: but I mean not to cut myself loose
from them, only to pass under guidance of a silly lad that hath never a
spark of spirit in him, and would make an old woman of me if I gave him
leave." Then, in a voice more like his own, he added, "Get you in to
your knitting, old Mistress Floriszoon, and tie your cap well o'er your
ears, lest the cold wind give you a rheum."