e and get a change of raiment.

"Twas in good time we were warned," said my master, after he was gone.
"Yet still am I in a great strait. For what can a press and paper do,
if we have no type? I durst not use this I have here, for it will be
known. And from no one else can I borrow it, for those that be not
jealous of me are too timid of his Grace to lend letter for such a
cause. Humphrey, type I must have, if not from at home from abroad."

"What!" said I. "From whom abroad will you get any?"

"My wife hath kinsmen in the town of Rochelle, who be printers. I have
had type of them already, but not enough."

"But how will you get it now?" I asked. "Who will fetch it?"

"I think you will, Humphrey," said he.

"I!" I cried. "No, master. I would serve you in much, but I cannot in
this; for I am bound to stay here, by an oath I would not break if I
could. Master, cost what it may, I will not go this errand."

Little knew I how soon I was to change my mind!

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

HOW THE MISERICORDE SAILED FOR ROCHELLE.

My master was very surly with me when I refused to go his errand abroad;
yet he had too much need of my service in the business he was engaged on
to fall out with me as he would have liked. And seeing me resolved to
abide where I was, he bade me stay and look to the place while he
himself saw after the removing of the stuff from Mistress Crane's house
to Moulsey.

"As to the type," said he, "we will speak of that again. But mark me,
Humphrey, a 'prentice who is not good enough to do an errand like this
is not good enough to be my son-in-law."

And he went off in dudgeon, leaving me very lonely and miserable. And,
to tell the truth, at any other season I should have hailed this voyage;
and when next day I saw lying near London Bridge the _Misericorde_
herself, and hailing the captain (who was that same shipmate who had
steered us into Leith Roads), heard from him that in a week he should
sail for France, I wished I could divide myself in two and go half with
him and half remain at my post in London.

A day or two later, being evening, I had locked up the printing house
and was wandering to take the air towards Smithfield. I had passed
under Temple Bar and was making my way down Fleet Street, when there
knocked up against me a great carter fellow, whom, by his gait, I took
to be more than half drunk. Being a 'prentice, and not in the humour
for knocks of that kind, I swung r