“Nay, Nicholas; I was talking to the moon.”

“Why, sir, the moon has not come yet,” said Nick, staring into the western sky.

“To be sure,” replied Master Carew, with a queer laugh.  “Well, the silvery jade has missed the first act.”

“Oh,” cried Nick, reminded of the purpose of his long walk, “what will ye play for the Mayor’s play, sir?”

“I don’t know,” replied Carew, carelessly; “it will all be done before I come.  They will have had the free play this afternoon, so as to catch the pence of all the May-day crowd to-morrow.”

Nick stopped in the road, and his eyes filled up with tears, so quick and bitter was the disappointment.  “Why,” he cried, with a tremble in his tired voice, “I thought the free play would be on the morrow—­and now I have not a farthing to go in!”

“Tut, tut, thou silly lad!” laughed Carew, frankly; “am I thy friend for naught?  What! let thee walk all the way to Coventry, and never see the play?  Nay, on my soul!  Why, Nick, I love thee, lad; and I’ll do for thee in the twinkling of an eye.  Canst thou speak lines by heart?  Well, then, say these few after me, and bear them in thy mind.”

And thereupon he hastily repeated some half a dozen disconnected lines in a high, reciting tone.

“Why, sir,” cried Nick, bewildered, “it is a part!”

“To be sure,” said Carew, laughing, “it is a part—­and a part of a very good whole, too—­a comedy by young Tom Heywood, that would make a graven image split its sides with laughing; and do thou just learn that part, good Master Skylark, and thou shalt say it in to-morrow’s play.”

“What, Master Carew!” gasped Nick.  “I—­truly?  With the Lord Admiral’s players?”

“Why, to be sure!” cried the master-player, in great glee, clapping him upon the back.  “Didst think I meant a parcel of dirty tinkers?  Nay, lad; thou art just the very fellow for the part—­my lady’s page should be a pretty lad, and, soul o’ me, thou art that same!  And, Nick, thou shalt sing Tom Heywood’s newest song.  It is a pretty song; it is a lark-song like thine own.”

Nick could hardly believe his ears.  To act with the Lord Admiral’s company!  To sing with them before all Coventry!  It passed the wildest dream that he had ever dreamed.  What would the boys in Stratford say?  Aha! they would laugh on the other side of their mouths now!

“But will they have me, sir?” he asked doubtfully.

“Have thee?” said Master Carew, haughtily.  “If I say go, thou shalt go.  I am master here.  And I tell thee, Nick, that thou shalt see the play, and be the play, in part, and—­well, we shall see what we shall see.”

With that he fell to humming and chuckling to himself, as if he had swallowed a water-mill, while Nick turned ecstatic cart-wheels along the grass beside the road, until presently Coventry came in sight.

CHAPTER VIII