62 MASTER SKYLARK

“Be off with thee!” cried Carew, sharply. “That is
my affair. Nay, Nick,” said he, laughing at the boy’s
astonished look; “we shall not burst. What we do not
have to-night we ’ll have in the morning. ’T is the way
with these inns,—to feed the early birds with scraps,—so
the more we leave from supper the more we ’ll have for
breakfast. And thou wilt need a good breakfast to ride
on all day long.”

“Ride?” exclaimed Nick. “Why, sir, I was minded to
walk back to Stratford, and keep my gold rose-noble
whole.”

“Walk?” cried the master-player, scornfully. “Thou,
with thy golden throat? Nay, Nicholas, thou shalt ride
to-morrow like a very king, if I have to pay for the horse
myself, twelvepence the day!” and with that he began
chuckling as if it were a joke.

But Nick stood up, and, bowing, thanked him gratefully ;
at which the master-player went from chuckling to laugh-
ing, and leered at Nick so oddly that the boy would have
thought him tipsy, save that there had been nothing yet
to drink. And aqueer sense of uneasiness came creeping
over him as he watched the master-player’s eyes opening
and shutting, opening and shutting, so that one moment
he seemed to be staring and the next almost asleep ; though
all the while his keen, dark eyes peered out from between
the lids like old dog-foxes from their holes, looking Nick
over from head to foot, and from foot to head again, as if
measuring him with an ellwand.

When the supper came, filling the whole table and the