74 MASTER SKYLARK

kle along the dashing line from dagger-hilts and jeweled
clasps, and the mist-lank plumes curl crisp again in the
warmth of the rising sun.

The master-player, too, had a graceful, taking way of
being half familiar with the lad; he was besides a mar-
velous teller of wonderful tales, and whiled away the
time with jests and quips, mile after mile, till Nick forgot
both road and time, and laughed until his sides were
sore.

Yet slowly, as they rode along, it came home to him
with the passing of the land that this was country new
and strange. So he began to take notice of this and that
beside the way; and as he noticed he began to grow un-
easy. Thrice had he come to Coventry, but surely never
by a road like this.

Yet still the master-player joked and laughed and
pleased the boy with little things—until Nick laughed
too, and let the matter go. At last, however, when they
had ridden fully an hour, they passed a moss-grown abbey
on the left-hand side of the road, a strange old place that
Nick could not recall.

“Are ye sure, Master Carew,” he ventured timidly—
“are ye sure we be na going wrong, sir?” ,

At that the master-player took on so offended an air
that Nick was sorry he had spoken.

“Why, now,” said Carew, haughtily, “if thou dost know
the roads of England better than I, who have trudged and
ridden them all these years, I’ll sit me down and learn of
thee how to follow mine own nose. I tell thee I know the