108 MASTER SKYLARK

cried, “it is a brave thing to hear!” and she clapped her
hands with sparkling eyes. “It drove the Spaniards off
the sea, my father ofttimes saith.”

“Poh!” said Nick, stoutly, for he saw the pasty coming
in, “they can na beat us Englishmen!” and with that fell
upon the pasty as if it were the Spanish Armada in one
lump and he Sir Francis Drake set on to do the job alone.

As he ate his spirits rose again, and he almost forgot
that he was stolen from his home, and grew eager to be
seeing the wonders of the great town whose ceaseless roar
came over the housetops like a distant storm. He was
still somewhat in awe of this beautiful, flower-like little
maid, and listened in shy silence to the wonderful tales she
told: how that she had seen the Queen, who had red hair,
and pearls like gooseberries on her cloak; and how the
court went down to Greenwich. But the bandy-legged
man kept popping his head in at the door, and, after all,
Nick was but in a prison-house; so he grew quite dismal
after a while.

“Dost truly think thy father will leave me go?” he
asked.

“Of course he will,” said she. “I cannot see why thou
dost hate him so?”

“Why, truly,” hesitated Nick, “perhaps it is not thy
father that I hate, but only that he will na leave me go.
And if he would but leave me go, perhaps I’d love him
very much indeed.”

“Good, Nick! thou art a trump!” cried Master Carew’s
voice suddenly from the further end of the hall, where in