268 MASTER SKYLARK

ahead and now behind the winding train, or off into the
woods and over the fields for a posy-bunch for Cicely,
calling and laughing back at her, and filling her lap with
flowers and ferns until the cart was all one great, sweet-
smelling bower.

As for Cicely, Nick was there, so she was very well con-
tent. She had never gone a-visiting in all her life before;
and she would see Nick’s mother, and the flowers in the
yard, the well, and that wondrous stream, the Avon, of
which Nick talked so much. “Stratford is a tair, fair
town, though very full of fools,” her father often said.
But she had nothing to do with the fools, and daddy would
come for her again; so her laughter bubbled like a little
spring throughout the livelong day.

As the sun went down in the yellow west they came into
Oxford from the south on the easterly side. The Cher-
well burned with the orange light reflected from the sky,
and the towers of the famous town of olden schools and
scholars stood up black-purple against the western glow,
with rims of gold on every roof and spire.

Up the High street into the corn-market rolled the tired
train, and turned into the rambling square of the old
Crown Inn near Carfax church, a large, substantial hos-
telry, one of merry England’s best, clean-chambered,
homelike, full of honest cheer.

There was a shout of greeting everywhere. The hostlers
ran to walk the horses till they cooled, and to rub them
down before they fed, for they were all afoam. Master
Davenant himself saw to the storing of the wains; and