e-breeches and waistcoat, with embroidered flowers, were the
handiwork of his mother and sister, and so was the white neckerchief,
with lace at the ends, which was tied in a careless bow at his neck.

His massive curls were brushed and combed back from his wide brow, and
there was about him that indescribable 'something' which separated him
from the throng of youths who collected in Bristol streets on Sundays,
some on the College Green and many in Redcliffe Meadows, talking and
laughing with the girls who were, like themselves, occupied in the week
in shops and warehouses or in domestic service.

The contributions to _Felix Farley's Journal_ had by this time attracted
attention to Chatterton, but he was entirely believed in by respectable
people when he said he had discovered the works of one Rowley, a priest
of St John, in the time of Canynge,[A] and had reproduced them for the
wonder and benefit of all lovers of ancient lore, especially when the
author of these works had been an inhabitant of the City of the West,
which had been famous in the history of the country from very early
times.

When at last Jack Henderson and Bryda came in sight Chatterton did not
hasten to meet them.

He chose to be offended that Bryda was so much later than he had
expected, and for the first few minutes he was moody and gloomy.

The three took the accustomed turn in Redcliffe Meadows, where presently
Chatterton's sister joined them, and Bryda was introduced in due form.

'My mother bids me say, Miss Palmer, she will be vastly glad if you will
take a dish of tea with us, and you also, Mr Henderson.'

Jack could only express his gratitude for the invitation, and walk by
Miss Chatterton's side, while her brother and Bryda were left together.

'That church is fine, is it not, miss?' Chatterton began. 'I consider it
a marvel of the builder's art, and a casket which contains precious
treasure. In yonder muniment room above the porch lay concealed for
centuries the works of a man, as wonderful in their way as yonder
pinnacles and buttresses. Will you take a turn in the meadows--there are
not so many fools prancing about here to-day as sometimes. The river
begins to attract them at this season.'

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote A: William Canynge was five times Mayor of Bristol. He
generously contributed to the work of rebuilding and ornamenting the
Church of St Mary Redcliffe, and built and endowed an almshouse and
hospital in the parish. He to