“THE CHILDREN OF PAUL’S” 145

Henslowe and Alleyn; but we ’ve found a better trough
than theirs—hey, Cicely Goldenheart, have n’t we? Thou
art to be one of Paul’s boys.”

“Paul who?”

Carew lay back in his chair and laughed. “Paul who?
Why, Saint Paul, Nick,—’t is Paul’s Cathedral boys I
mean. Marry, what dost say to that?”

“Td like another barley-cake.”

“You ’d what?” cried the master-player, letting the
front legs of his chair come down on the floor with a
thump.

“I'd like another barley-cake,” said Nick, quietly, help-
ing himself to the honey.

“Upon my word, and on the remnant of mine honour!”
ejaculated Carew. “Teli a man his fortune ’s made, and
he calls for barley-cakes! Why, thou’dst say ‘Pooh!’ to
a cannon-ball! My faith, boy, dost understand what this
doth mean?”

“ Ay,” said Nick; “that I be hungry.”

“But, Nick, upon my soul, thou art to sing with the
Children of Paul’s; to play with the cathedral company ;
to be a bright particular star in the sweetest galaxy that
ever shone in English sky! Dost take me yet?”

“ Ay,” said Nick, and sopped the honey with his cake.

Carew played with his glass uneasily, and tapped his
heel upon the floor. “And is that all thou hast to say—
hast turned oyster? There ’s no R in May—nobody will
eat thee! Come, don’t make a mouth as though the
honey of the world were all turned gall upon thy tongue.

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