rdoned though he be. Then the good lady wept
again, and `Good woman,' saith she to Mistress Hope, `the King will set
thy brother free anon. His wrath is not with babes, nor with lads like
this other of whom thou speakest.'

"So off was she to the King again, and though he and his master pished
and pshawed, and said if one and another were to be set free privily in
this sort, there would be none to come and beg for mercy as a warning to
all malapert youngsters to keep within bounds, `Nay, verily,' quoth I,
seeing the moment for shooting a fool's bolt among them, `methinks
Master Death will have been a pick-lock before you are ready for them,
and then who will stand to cry mercy?'"

The narrative was broken off short by a cry of jubilee in the court.
Workmen, boys, and all were thronging together, Kit Smallbones' head
towering in the midst. Vehement welcomes seemed in progress. "Stephen!
Stephen!" shouted Dennet, and flew out of the hail and down the steps.

"The lad himself!" exclaimed the jester, leaping down after her.

"Stephen, the good boy!" said Master Headley, descending more slowly,
but not less joyfully.

Yes, Stephen himself it was, who had quietly walked into the court.
Master Hope and Master Todd had brought the order for Jasper's release,
had paid the captain's exorbitant fees for both, and, while the sick boy
was carried home in a litter, Stephen had entered the Dragon court
through the gates, as if he were coming home from an errand; though the
moment he was recognised by the little four-year old Smallbones, there
had been a general rush and shout of ecstatic welcome, led by Giles
Headley, who fairly threw himself on Stephen's neck, as they met like
comrades after a desperate battle. Not one was there who did not claim
a grasp of the boy's hand, and who did not pour out welcomes and
greetings; while in the midst, the released captive looked, to say the
truth, very spiritless, faded, dusty, nay dirty. The court seemed
spinning round with him, and the loud welcomes roared in his ears. He
was glad that Dennet took one hand, and Giles the other, declaring that
he must be led to the grandmother instantly.

He muttered something about being in too foul trim to go near her, but
Dennet held him fast, and he was too dizzy to make much resistance. Old
Mrs Headley was better again, though not able to do much but sit by the
fire kept burning to drive away the plague which was always smouldering
in London