150 MASTER SKYLARK

Master Gyles closed the great door and pulled a cord
that hung by the stage. A bell jangled faintly somewhere
in the wall. Nick heard the muffled voices hush, and then
a shuffling tramp of slippered feet came up the outer stair.

“Pout!” said the precentor, crustily. “ Tempus fugit—
that is to say, we have no time to waste. So, marry, boy,
venite, ecultemus—in other words, if thou canst sing, be up
and at it. Come, cantate—sing, I bid thee, and that in-
stanter—if thou canst sing at all.”

The under-masters and monitors were pushing the boys
into their seats. Carew pointed to the stage. “Thou ‘lt
do thy level best!” he said in a low, hard tone, and some-
thing clashed beneath his cloak like steel on steel.

Nick went up the steps behind the screen. It seemed
cold in the room; he had not noticed it before. Yet there
were sweat-drops upon his forehead. He felt as if he
were a jackanapes he had seen once at the Stratford fair,
which wore a crimson jerkin and a cap. The man who
had the jackanapes played upon a pipe and a tabor; and
when he said, “Dance!” the jackanapes danced, for it was
sorely afraid of the man. Yet when Nick looked around
and did not see the master-player anywhere in the hall,
he felt exceedingly lonely all at once without him, though
he both feared and hated him.

There still was a shuffling of feet and a low talking; but
soon it became very quiet, and they all seemed to be wait.
ing for him to begin. He did not care, but supposed. he
might as well: what else could he do?

There was a clock somewhere ticking quickly with its
sharp, metallicring. As he listened, lonely, his heart cried