THE BANDY-LEGGED MAN 257

“why, what? Who ’d want a sweeter penny for his
pains?” But “Here—nay, nay!” the others cried;
“ye ’ve left us out. Fair play, fair play!”

All Cicely could see was a forest of legs that filled the
lane from wall to wall, and six great fellows towering over
her. “Why, sirs,” cried she, confusedly, while her face
grew rosy red, “ye all shall kiss my hand—if—if—”

“Tf what?” they roared.

“Tf ye will but wipe your faces clean.”

At the shout of laughter they sent up the constable of
the cloth-men’s ward awoke from a sudden dream of war
and bloody insurrection, and came down Cheapside bawl-
ing, “Peace, in the name of the Queen!” But when he
found it was only the apprentices of Mincing Lane out
Maying, he stole away around a shop, and made as if it
were some other fellow.

They took the humor of it like a jolly lot of bears, and
all came crowding round about, wiping their mouths on
what came first, with a lick and a promise,—kerchief, doub-
let, as it chanced,—laughing, and shouldering each to be
first. “Up with the little maid there, Tom!” they roared
lustily.

Cicely gave him both her hands, and—“ Upsydaisy!”
—she was on the top of the corner post, where she stood
with one hand on his brawny shoulder to steady herself,
like a flower growing by a wall, bowing gravely all about,
and holding out her hand to be kissed with as graceful an
air as a princess born, and withal a sweet, quaint dignity
that abashed the wildest there.

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