A STRANGE DAY 285

but his figure ’s good, his wit is quick, and he has a very
taking style. It would be worth while, Dick. And, Will,”
said he, turning to Master Shakspere, who listened with
half a smile to all that the others said, “he ‘ll make a
better Rosalind than Roger Prynne for thy new play.”

“So he would,” said Master Shakspere; “but before
we put him into ‘As You Like It,’ suppose we ask him
how he does like it? Nick, thou hast heard what all
these gentlemen have said—what hast thou to say, my
lad?”

“Why, sirs, ye are all kind,” said Nick, his voice begin-
ning to tremble, “very, very kind indeed, sirs; but—I—I
want my mother—oh, masters, I do want my mother!”

At that John Combe turned on his heel and walked out
of the gate. Out of the garden-gate walked he, and down
the dirty lane, setting his cane down stoutly as he went, past
gravel-pits and pens to Southam’s lane, and in at the door
of Simon Attwood’s tannery.

Ir was noon when he went in; yet the hour struck,
and no one came or went from the tannery. Mistress
Attwood’s dinner grew cold upon the board, and Dame
Combe looked vainly across the fields toward the town.

But about the middle of the afternoon John Combe came
out of the tannery door, and Simon Attwood came behind
him. And as John Combe came down the cobbled way, a
trail of brown vat-liquor followed him, dripping from his
clothes, for he was soaked to the skin. His long gray hair
had partly dried in strings about his ears, and his fine lace