crowned monarch would pale, and whose poetry should live upon men’s lips when five hundred years had fled, they would probably have looked on her with very different eyes. But they knew her only as a Lady of the Bedchamber, first to the deceased Queen Philippa, and now to the Queen of Castile, and therefore deserving of all possible subservience. Of her husband they never thought at all. The “chiel amang ’em takin’ notes” made no impression on them: but five centuries have passed since then, and the chiel’s notes are sterling yet in England.

Mistress Chaucer sat down on the bench, and with quiet but rapid glances appraised the three girls. Then she said to Amphillis—

“Is it thou whom I came to see?”

Amphillis louted, and modestly assented, after which the lady took no further notice of the two who were the more anxious to attract her attention.

“And what canst thou do?” she said.

“What I am told, Mistress,” said Amphillis.

“Ach!” murmured Regina; “you den can much do.”

“Ay, thou canst do much,” quietly repeated Mistress Chaucer. “Canst dress hair?”

Amphillis thought she could. She might well, for her cousins made her their maid, and were not easily pleased mistresses.

“Thou canst cook, I cast no doubt, being bred at a patty-shop?”

“Mistress, I have only dwelt there these six months past. My father was a poor gentleman that died when I was but a babe, and was held to demean himself by wedlock with my mother, that was sister unto mine uncle, Master Altham. Mine uncle was so kindly as to take on him the charge of breeding me up after my father died, and he set my mother and me in a little farm that ’longeth to him in the country: and at after she departed likewise, he took me into his house. I know somewhat of cookery, an’ it like you, but not to even my good cousins here.”

“Oh, Phyllis is a metely fair cook, when she will give her mind thereto,” said Alexandra with a patronising air, and a little toss of her head—a gesture to which that young lady was much addicted.

A very slight look of amusement passed across Mistress Chaucer’s face, but she did not reply to the remark.

“And thy name?” she asked, still addressing Amphillis.

“Amphillis Neville, and your servant, Mistress.”

“Canst hold thy peace when required so to do?” Amphillis smiled. “I would endeavour myself so to do.”

“Canst be patient when provoked of other?”

“With God’s grace, Mistress, I so trust.” Alexandra’s face wore an expression of dismay. It had never occurred to her that silence and patience were qualities required in a bower-maiden, as the maid or companion to a lady was then called; for the maid was the companion then, and was usually much better educated than now—as education was understood at that time. In Alexandra’s eyes the position was simply one which gave unbounded facilities for flirting, laughing, and giddiness in general. She began to think that Amphillis was less to be envied than she had supposed.

“And thou wouldst endeavour thyself to be meek and buxom (humble and submissive) in all things to them that should be set over thee?”

“I would so, my mistress.”

“What fashions of needlework canst do?”

“Mistress, I can sew, and work tapestry, and embroider somewhat if the pattern be not too busy (elaborate, difficult). I would be glad to learn the same more perfectly.”

Mistress Chaucer rose. “I think thou wilt serve,” said she. “But I can but report the same—the deciding lieth not with me. Mistress Regina, I pray you to allow of another to speak with this maid in your chamber to-morrow in the even, and this time it shall be the lady that must make choice. Not she that shall be thy mistress, my maid; she dwelleth not hereaway, but far hence.”

Amphillis cared very little where her future duties were to lie. She was grateful to her uncle, but she could hardly be said to love him; and her cousins had behaved to her in such a style, that the sensation called forth towards them was a long way from love. She felt alone in the world; and it did not much signify in what part of that lonely place she was set down to work. The only point about which she cared at all was, that she was rather glad to hear she was not to stay in London; for, like old Earl Douglas, she “would rather hear the lark sing than the mouse cheep.”

The girls louted to Mistress Chaucer, kissed Regina, and went down into the shop, which they found filled with customers, and Master Herman himself waiting on them, they being of sufficient consequence for the notice of that distinguished gentleman. On the table set in the midst of the shop—which, like most tables at that day, was merely a couple of boards laid across trestles—was spread a blue cloth, whereon rested various glittering articles—a silver basin, a silver-gilt bottle, a cup of gold, and another of a fine shell set in gold, a set of silver apostle spoons, so-called because the handle of each represented one of the apostles, and another spoon of beryl ornamented with gold; but none of them seemed to suit the customers, who were looking for a suitable christening gift.

“Ach! dey vill not do!” ejaculated Master Herman, spreading out his fat fingers and beringed thumbs. “Then belike we must de jewels try. It is a young lady, de shild? Gut! den look you here. Here is de botoner of perry (button-hook of goldsmith’s work), and de bottons—twelf—wrought wid garters, wid lilies, wid bears, wid leetle bells, or wid a reason (motto)—you can haf what reason you like. Look you here again, Madam—de ouches (brooches)—an eagle of gold and enamel, Saint George and de dragon, de white hart, de triangle of diamonds; look you again, de paternosters (rosaries), dey are lieblich! gold and coral, gold and pearls, gold and rubies; de rings, sapphire and ruby and diamond and smaragdus (emerald)—ach! I have it. Look you here!”

And from an iron chest, locked with several keys, Master Herman produced something wrapped carefully in white satin, and took off the cover as if he were handling a baby.

“Dere!” he cried, holding up a golden chaplet, or wreath for the head, of ruby flowers and leaves wrought in gold, a large pearl at the base of every leaf—“dere! You shall not see a better sight in all de city—ach! not in Nuremburg nor Cöln. Dat is what you want—it is schön, schön! and dirt sheap it is—only von hundert marks. You take it?”

The lady seemed inclined to take it, but the gentleman demurred at the hundred marks—66 pounds, 13 shillings and 4 pence, which, reduced to modern value, would be nearly eleven hundred pounds; and the girls, who had lingered as long as they reasonably could in their passage through the attractive shop, were obliged to pass out while the bargain was still unconcluded.

“I’d have had that chaplet for myself, if I’d been that lady!” said Alexandra as they went forward. “I’d never have cast that away for a christening gift.”

“Nay, but her lord would not find the money,” answered Ricarda.

“I’d have had it, some way,” said her sister. “It was fair enough for a queen. Amphillis, I do marvel who is the lady thou shalt serve. There’s ever so much ado ere the matter be settled. ’Tis one grander than Mistress Chaucer, trow, thou shalt see to-morrow even.”

“Ay, so it seems,” was the quiet answer.

“Nathless, I would not change with thee. I’ve no such fancy for silence and patience. Good lack! but if a maid can work, and dress hair, and the like, what would they of such weary gear as that?”

“Maids be not of much worth without they be discreet,” said Amphillis.

“Well, be as discreet as thou wilt; I’ll none of it,” was the flippant reply of her cousin.

The young ladies, however, did not neglect to accompany Amphillis on her subsequent visit. Regina