Prentice Hugh

by Frances Mary Peard

isit?"--"That mischievous loon Hal! If I can but lay hands on him!"

  "Hath he set anyone on fire?"

  "Ay, young Mistress Tirell. Nay, mistress, prithee think not of it--myhands will be well to-morrow--'tis nothing, Mistress Thomasin--Hugh,"(aside), "get me out of this, for I never felt such a fool!"

  But there was no escape for Wat. Hal, having been caught, and receivedsummary punishment from his master, was sent home, and the party satdown again, some to go on with Prothasy's good things, and Thomasin torecover a little from her condition. Nothing would serve but that Watmust sit down, too, between Thomasin and her elder sister, Alice, andthere he was more confused than ever by faltered thanks, and gratefulglances of the blue eyes.

  "How was it?" asked Alice, whispering across him.

  "Alack, I know not!" said the other girl, shuddering. "I felt somethinghot under my elbow, and looked down, and there was a line of flamedarting up, and then I screamed, and then--" to Wat--"you came."

  "I was too rough," stammered Wat, "but then I always am a bear."

  "A bear! Nay, it was to save my life."

  "It was all past in a minute," said Alice.

  "But thy hands. I hope mother has bound them up skilfully. Is the paingreat?"

  "Prithee speak not of it again!" cried Wat in desperation.

  It was curious, however, how content he was to remain in his presentposition, which Hugh fancied must be terribly irksome to him, Wat alwaysfinding it most difficult to sit still when anything active was goingon. It made him fear that he might be more hurt than they knew. Butthe bonfires were in full blaze, and every great crackle and leap offlame caused Thomasin to tremble, so that Wat's presence and protectionwere very grateful to her. And to him it was a new experience to beappealed to and looked up to as if he were a man; he found itexceedingly pleasant, he had never believed it could be so pleasantbefore. Mistress Tirell would have him go home with them, having anointment which she thought excellent for burns, and though Thomasincould not endure to look upon the dressing, Wat thought her interest andsympathy showed the kindest heart in the world. In fact, it seemed tohim that no one ever had been so sweet, and when he got back late, hewas very angry that Hugh should be too sleepy to listen to hisoutpourings of admiration.

  As for Hal, he had to keep out of his way all day, Wat scarce being ableto withhold his hands from him, while to Hugh he talked perpetually ofwhat had happened, and put numberless questions as to what he thoughtabout it all.

  "She was a silly maiden," said Hugh, bluntly, "to shriek and run like afrightened hare."

  "Much thou knowest!" cried the indignant Wat. "Thou wouldst have hadher sit and be burned, forsooth!"

  "Well, 'tis no matter of mine. Thou hast thy hands burned so thou canstnot work, and had to sit up like the master himself--poor Wat! I wassorry for thee!"

  "It was not so bad," said Wat, meditatively. "When thou art a grownman, thou wilt not care so much for all that foolish boy's play. Ishall have no more of it."

  Hugh burst into a laugh, as he shaped the graceful curve of a vinetendril.

  "What has come to thee? Who was mad yesterday at having to play MasterSobersides?"

  "I shall play the fool no more, I tell thee. What age, think you, mightMistress Thomasin be?"

  "Nay, I scarce looked at her."

  "I am going soon to the house to have my hands dressed."

  "What need for that when the goodwife here could do it?"

  "I could scarce be such a churl as to refuse when I was bidden," saidWat, hotly.

  Hugh stared at him, not understanding the change from the Wat who fledthe company of his elders, caring for none but hare-brained prentices;and as the days went by he grew more and more puzzled. Wat's handsseemed long in getting well, at any rate they required to be frequentlyinspected by Mistress Tirell, and it was remarkable that he could talkof naught but his new friends. He had always preferred the carving ofcurious and grotesque creatures, leaving all finer and more gracefulwork to Hugh. But now he implored Hugh to let him have the fashioningof a small kneeling angel.

  "Thou!" cried the other, amazed. "What has put that into thy head? Itis not the work that thou carest for."

  "I have a mind for it when my hands are well. Prithee, Hugh!"

  "Nay, thou wilt stick some grinning face on the poor angel's shoulders."

  "Not I. I am going to try to shape something like Mistress Thomasin--well, why dost thou laugh?"

  "What has come to thee, Wat? Since that day in the meadows it has beennaught but Thomasin, Thomasin! Now I think of it, perhaps the fairiesbewitched thee, since it was Midsummer Eve!" Perhaps Master Gervaseguessed more clearly than Hugh what was the magic that had wrought thischange, for though he laughed a good deal, he kept Wat occupied afterthe first three or four days were past, and Prothasy undertook to do allthat was now necessary for the hurt hands. It was remarkable that underher care they seemed to improve more rapidly than at one time appearedprobable, so that it was not very long before Wat was able to handle hischisel again, though from the great sighs he emitted Hugh was afraid thepain might be more than he allowed.

  But now were no more pranks or junketings for Wat, no more libertiespermitted from the prentices whose merry company he had hithertopreferred. He had suddenly awakened to a dignified sense of hisposition as journeyman, and Roger himself did not maintain it moregravely. Most remarkable, however, was the change in his appearance.It had always been an affront to Prothasy that Wat would never keep hisclothes tidy or clean, she vowed he was a disgrace to their house, andthat no others in the town made such a poor appearance. But now--nowtimes indeed were changed! Now was Wat going off to the draper's topurchase fine cloth, and taking it himself to the Tailors' Guild, andmost mighty particular was he about the cut of his sleeves. And as forhis shoes, he ran to outrageous lengths in the toes--he who had alwaysinveighed against the oafs who were not content with modest points! Onthe first Sunday on which Wat, thus attired, set forth, carrying a posyof lilies in his hand, and walking with such an air of consciousmanliness as quite impressed those who met him, Hugh and Joan, withAgrippa, watching from the balcony, saw him turn up to St Martin'sGate, and both burst out laughing.

  "What has come to Wat?" cried Hugh. "Didst see his posy?"

  "That is for Thomasin," Joan answered, nodding her pretty little head,"for I heard him ask mother what flowers maidens loved, and motherlaughed, and said 'twas so long since she was a girl, she had forgotten,but if it was meant for Thomasin he had best ask Mistress Tirell. And Iknow Thomasin loves lilies. I wonder why Wat likes Thomasin so much? Ilike Alice better. But he is for ever talking about her yellow hair andher blue eyes, and wanting to hear if I have seen her pass. Look, Hugh,what a fierce-looking man!"

  "That is he they call Henry of Doune, and Sir Adam Fortescue is stoppinghis horse to speak with him. And here comes Peter the shereman, and Natthe cordwainer. They say that. Earl Hugh has been quarrelling with themayor again, and threatening to stop all the fishing in the Exe. Thyfather is very wroth; he says the city bears it too tamely, and shouldcomplain to the king."

  "Hugh, tell me about thy corbel. Hast thou thought it out?"

  "I am always thinking. I see such beautiful lines and curves in mydreams that I am quite happy--till I wake."

  "Father says in two or three months there will be a beginning, and Idon't know what to wish," continued Joan. "I want both of you to do thebest."

  "There is no fear. I cannot match with the master."

  "There is no other that can match with thee then!" cried Joan, fondlingAgrippa. "He first and thou second--that is what it must be."

  Hugh shook his head.

  "Franklyn and Roger."

  "They can work but they cannot design like thee," returned Joan,eagerly. "Roger will be mad to be the best, but--unless he steals adesign--there is no chance of that. Oh, thou foolish Hugh, to make metell thee this over and over again when thou knowest it better than Ido!"

  CHAPT
ER THIRTEEN.

  BY PROXY.

  All through the autumn and early winter Hugh's thoughts were busy aboutthe corbel work. He might have been impatient that it was not begunbefore, but that he knew the delay to have been gained for himself byElyas, who had met with some opposition from certain canons of theCathedral. They objected that it was unwise to put a work of suchimportance into the hands of a young apprentice. Every month gained,therefore, was in his favour, and the bishop remained his friend. Therough blocks were already in their places, ready for ordinary workmen to"boss them out," and by the end of February, which had been a wet andcheerless month, this