Part 8 (1/2)

”Nay then! I ask thy pardon, Blossom,” cried the girl, laughing, and holding out a crown piece she had discovered in a pocket of the doublet, ”thou art a friend I have no will to offend. Now send thy good Dame.”

Shortly Mistress Blossom came bustling in, rosy in the face from bending over an open fire. She carried high in one hand a platter from which drifted a savoury smell, and a steaming flagon was in the other.

Setting these down she smoothed her voluminous skirt and stood waiting, an expression of severe displeasure hardening her face.

”A goodly day to you, and a fresh morning, mistress,” Deb said shortly--”I pray thee shut the door--an' see it be latched.”

The woman did so without speaking.

”Now look at me well. Come”--smiling--”did'st ever see me more like myself?”

”Nay,” replied the Dame, after a slow scrutiny of the charming figure.

”In looks thou art well enow. An' thy manners matched, 'twere cause for rejoicing. Thou wer't a disgrace yestere'en to thy sister, ay! an'

to the hamlet o' Shottery that saw thee raised.”

”Make a finish, good Dame,” answered Deb, mockingly; ”say a disgrace to myself an' the company o' players I have the honour of belonging to.”

”Hoity-toity! Play actors!” quoth the other. ”Little care I for what disgrace thou be'st to them! But what o' thy broken head, lad? Hath it sore pained thee? Why, my faith, the swelling be quite gone!”

The girl gave way to a short peal of laughter.

”Marry! I laugh,” she said, struggling for composure, ”yet feel little like it. Look well again, Mistress Blossom. Look well. Surely there be small triumph in befooling thee, for thou art too easy hoodwinked withal. Gaze steady now. Dost still say 'tis Darby Thornbury?”

The woman stared while her complexion went from peony red to pale pink.

”Thou giv'st me a turn, an' I be like to swoon,” she gasped. ”What prank has't afoot, lad?”

”Thou wilt go a bit farther before thou dost faint. Hark then, an'

prythee hold by the table an' thou turn'st giddy. Now doth it come.

See then, this handsome, well-favoured youth thou art breakfasting,”

rising and making a pretty bow, ”is--is none other than _Deb Thornbury_!”

”Ods pitikins!” cried the woman.

”Sit down,” answered Deb, growing sober. ”I would talk with thee, for I need thy good-will and, peradventure, thy help. Things with my brother are in a very coil. He will not be able to take his part i'

the new play on the morrow. His face is too sorely marred. Beshrew me, he looks not one half as much like himself as I look like him. Now there be no understudy i' the cast for the character Darby hath taken--further, 'tis an all important one. To have him away would mean confusion and trouble to Blackfriars and I gainsay nothing rejoicing to the Admiral's Company and Lord Pembroke's men. 'Tis not to be contemplated. By the Saints! I would not have trouble come to Master Will Shakespeare through my brother, no, not for the crown jewels!

Dost follow me?”

”Nay, that I do not nor what thou'rt coming at,” was the dazed response.

Debora shrugged her shoulders. ”I hoped 't would have dawned on thee.

Why, 'tis just this, I will play the part myself.”

”Thou?” cried Dame Blossom, agape. ”Thou, Mistress Debora?”

”Yes! yes! Nay, ply me not with questions. My mind is set. There be not one in London who will discover me, an' thou dost not break faith, or let thy good man scent aught on the wind. But I wanted to tell thee, dear Mistress Blossom, and have thy good word. Pray thee say I am not doing wrong, or making any error. I have been so bewildered.”