36 MASTER SKYLARK

best inn in all Coventry—the Blue Boar? Thou hast quite
plucked up my downcast heart for me, lad, imdeed thou
hast; for I was sore of Stratford town—aud I shall not
soon forget thy plucky fending for our own sweet Will
Come, say thou wilt go with me.”

“Indeed, sir,’ said Nick, bowing again, his head all in a
whirl of excitement at this wonderful adventure, “indeed
I will, and that right gladly, sir.” And with heart beat-
ing like a trip-hammer he walked along, cap in hand, not
knowing that his head was bare.

The master-player laughed a simple, hearty laugh.
“Why, Nick,” said he, laying his hand caressingly upon
the boy’s shoulder, “I am no such great to-do as all that
—upon my word, I’m not! A man of some few parts,
perhaps, not common in the world; but quite a plain
fellow, after all. Come, put off this high humility and be
just friendly withal. Put on thy cap; we are but two good
faring-fellows here.”

So Nick put on his cap, and they went on together, Nick
in the seventh heaven of delight.

About a mile beyond Stratford, Welecombe wood creeps
down along the left. Just beyond, the Dingles wind
irregularly up from the foot-path below to the crest of
Welcombe hill, through straggling clumps and briery
hollows, sweet with nodding bluebells, ash, and hawthorn

Nick and the master-player paused a moment at the top
to catch their breath and to look back.

Stratford and the valley of the Avon lay spread before
them like a picture of peace, studded with blossoming