From the play they repaired to more gay houses, where Tom speedily lost his ten guineas at basset, but was too excited to care, and paid over his stakes with a lordly indifference that did credit to his powers of observation and imitation.

It was long past midnight ere they bent their steps homewards, and then, as it was far too late to seek the shelter of Master Cale’s abode, Tom betook himself once more to Lord Claud’s lodgings, and was speedily sound asleep in the most soft and sumptuous bed it had ever been his lot to lie upon.

CHAPTER VII.  MASTER GALE’S DAUGHTER.

It was Sunday morning, and Tom was making his way, towards the hour of noon, to the house of the perruquier, which he had quitted some four days past, with no intention of so long an absence.

The streets were unwontedly quiet, and the cries of the apprentices at the doors of the shops were pleasantly missed.  The shops were most of them shuttered up, and the apprentices, clad in their best, were all away to some sport of their own selection in byways and alleys, or lingering about the parks with a knot of footmen and lackeys, watching the fine folk walk in and out.  For the common sort were not admitted as yet within the precincts of the parks, and even the gentlefolks had to leave their servants behind; so that it may well be guessed there was plenty of gossiping and hustling to be had at the gates, if any had a taste for it.

Tom was a far finer figure coming home than he had been in going out.  He wore a coat of azure velvet, and his vest was a perfect cataract of fine point de Venise.  His shoes were of white leather with red heels, and his stockings of the finest white silk.  He had felt ashamed of his plain claret cloth, which had seemed so fine at first, when taken to the houses of the fine hooped and powdered ladies; and Lord Claud had had him fitted with this suit at his own costumiers, bidding Tom regard it as a small token of friendship and gratitude.

Tom had delighted in his fine appearance as he was taken the round of the fashionable houses; but now, as he neared his former lodgings, he found himself wishing he had put on the more sober suit.  He felt that Master Cale’s eyes would rest upon him with a grave disapproval, and he had not yet grown indifferent to the opinion of the man who had so befriended him.

The perruquier’s shop was close shut up, the sign swinging idly overhead.  But the door in the rear stood ajar, and Tom softly pushed it open and entered.

He paused on the threshold, surprised by an unfamiliar sound—­the sound of a fresh young voice singing a gay little snatch of song in some upper chamber.  He mounted the stairs softly, the sound of the voice growing clearer, and at last he knew that the singer must be in the upper parlour, where, when the day’s work was all finished, the perruquier and any lodger he might chance to have spent the evening hours if they did not go abroad.