THE ADMIRAL’S COMPANY 47

spruce in new finery, and gay with bits of ribbon—merry
groups that were ever changing. Gay banners flapped
on tall ash staves. The suburb fields were filled with
booths and tents and stalls and butts for archery. The
very air seemed eager with the eve of holiday.

But what to Nick was breathless wonder was to Carew
only a twice-told tale; so he pushed through the crowded
thoroughfares, amid a throng that made Nick’s head spin
round, and came quickly to the Blue Boar Inn.

The court was crowded to the gates with horses, trav-
elers, and serving-men ; and here and there and everywhere
rushed the busy innkeeper, with a linen napkin fluttering
on his arm, his cap half off, and in his hot hand a pewter
flagon, from which the brown ale dripped in spatters on
his fat legs as he flew.

“They ’re here,” said Carew, looking shrewdly about;
“for there is Gregory Goole, my groom, and Stephen
Magelt, the tire-man. In with thee, Nicholas.”

He put Nick before him with a little air of patronage,
and pushed him into the room.

It was a large, low chamber with heavy beams overhead,
hung with leather jacks and pewter tankards. Around
the walls stood rough tables, at which a medley of guests
sat eating, drinking, dicing, playing at cards, and talking
loudly all at once, while the tapster and the cook’s knave
sped wildly about.

At a great table in the midst of the riot sat the Lord
High Admiral’s players—a score or more loud-swashing
gallants, richly clad in ruffs and bands, embroidered