THE MAKING OF A PLAYER 169

cambric that rustled as they walked, with popinjay blue
ribbon in their hair, and flowered stomachers sparkling
with paste jewels.

And, truth, it was no easy thing to tell them from the
real affair, or to guess the made from the maiden, so
slender and so graceful were they all, with their ruffs and
their muffs and their feathered fans, and all the airs and
mincing graces of the daintiest young miss.

But old Nat Gyles would never have Nick Attwood play
the girl. “The lad is good enough for me just as he is,”
said he; and that was all there was of it.