CHAPTER XI
DISOWNED

IGHT came down on Stratford town that last sweet

April day, and the pastured kine came lowing home.

Supper-time passed, and the cool stars came twinkling
out; but still Nick Attwood did not come.

“He hath stayed to sleep with Robin, Master Burgess
Getley’s son,” said Mistress Attwood, standing in the door,
and staring out into the dusk; “he is often lonely here.”

“He should ha’ telled thee on it, then,” said Simon Att-
wood. “This be no way todo. I’ve a mind to put him
to a trade.”

“Nay, Simon,” protested his wife; “he may be careless,
—he is young yet,—but Nicholas is a good lad. Let him
have his schooling out—he ll be the better for it.”

“Then let him show it as he goes along,” said Attwood,
grimly, as he blew the candle out.

But May-day dawned; mid-morning came, mid-after-
noon, then supper-time again; and supper-time crept into
dusk—and still no Nicholas Attwood.

His mother grew uneasy ; but his father only growled :
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