MASTER HEYWOOD PROTESTS 125

So they came on gloomily past the bear-houses and the
Queen’s kennels. The river-wind was full of the wild smell
of the bears; but what were bears to poor Nick, whose
last faint hope that the master-player meant to keep his
word and send him home again was gone?

They passed the Paris Garden and the tall round play.
house that Francis Langley had just built. A blood-red '
banner flaunted overhead, with a large white swan painted
thereon; but Nick saw neither the play-house nor the
swan; he saw only, deep in his heart, a little gable-roof
among old elms, with blue smoke curling softly up among
the rippling leaves ; an open door with tall pink hollyhocks
beside it; and in the door, watching for him till he came
again, his own mother’s face. He began to cry silently.

“Nay, Nick, my lad, don’t cry,” said Heywood, gently ;
“*¢ will only make bad matters worse. ever is a weary
while; but the longest lane will tarn at last: some day
thou ‘It find thine home again all in the twinkling of an
eye. Why, Nick, ’t is England still, and thou an English-
man.’ Come, give the world as good as it can send.”

Nick raised his head again, and, throwing the hair back
from his eyes, walked stoutly along, ough the tears still
trickled down his cheeks.

“Sing thou my songs,” said Heywood, heartily, “and I
will be thy friend—let this be thine earnest.” As he
spoke he slipped upon the boy’s finger a gold ring with a
green stone in it cut with a tall tree: this was his seal.

They had now come through the garden to the Rose
Theatre, where the Lord Admiral’s company played; and