CAREW’S OFFER 115

lants in gold-laced silk and velvet promenading up and
down the aisle, with no business there at all but to show
their faces and their clothes. And all about were solemn
shrines and monuments and tombs, and overhead a splen-
did window burned like a wheel of fire in the eastern wall.

While Nick stared, speechless, a party of the Admiral’s
players came strolling by, their heads half hidden in their
huge starched ruffs, and with prodigious swords that
would have dragged along the ground had they not been
cocked up behind so fiercely in the air. Seeing Master
Carew and the boy, they stopped in passing to greet them
gaily.

Master Heywood was there, and bowed to Nick with a
kindly smile. His companion was a handsome, proud-
mouthed man with a blue, smooth-shaven face and a jet-
black periwig. Him Carew drew aside and spoke with in
an earnest undertone. As he talked, the other began to
stare at Nick as if he were some curious thing in a cage.

“Upon my soul,” said Carew, “ye never heard the like
of it. He hath a voice as sweet and clear as if Puck had
burst a honey-bag in his throat.”

“No doubt,” replied the other, carelessly ; “and all the
birds will hide their heads when he begins to sing. But
we don’t want him, Carew—not if he had a voice like
Miriam the Jew. Henslowe has just bought little Jem
Bristow of Will Augusten for eight pound sterling, and
business is too bad to warrant any more.”

“Who spoke of selling?” said Carew, sharply. “Don’t
flatter your chances so, Master Alleyn. I would n’t sell