142 MASTER SKYLARK

“Hate him? Oh, Nick! Why?”

“Tf thou be asking whys,” said Nick, bitterly, “why did
he steal me away from my mother?”

“Oh, surely, Nick, that cannot be true—no, no, it can-
not be true. Thou hast forgotten, or thou hast slept too
hard and had bad dreams. My father would not steal a
pin. It was a nightmare. Doth thine head hurt thee?”
She came over and stroked his forehead with her cool
hand. She was a graceful child, and gentle in all her
ways. “I am-sorry thou dost not feel well, Nick. But
my father will come presently, and he will heal thee soon.
Don’t ery any more.” ,

“T m not crying,” said Nick, stoutly, though as he
spoke a tear ran down his cheek, and fell upon his hand.

“Then it is the roof leaks,” she said, looking up as if
she had not seen his tear-blinded eyes. ‘But cheer up,
Nick, and be a good boy—wilt thou not? ’T is dinner-
time, and thy new clothes have come; and thou art to
come down now and try them on.”

Wher Nick came out of the tiring-room and found the
master-player come, he knew not what to say or do.
“Oh, brave, brave, brave!” cried Cicely, and danced
around him, clapping her hands. “Why, it is a very
prince—a king! Oh, Nick, thou art most beautiful to
see!”

And Master Carew’s own eyes sparkled ; for truly it was
a pleasant sight to see a fair young lad like Nick in such
attire.

There was a fine white shirt of Holland linen, and long