Rebecca grew red with fury. She released her hold to thump her companion twice on the arm and nearly fell from the horse in consequence. "You great rascal!" she cried, indignantly. "How dare ye talk 'bout drinkin' ale! D'you s'pose I'd touch the nasty stuff? Me--a member of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union! Me--a Daughter of Temperance an' wearin' the blue ribbon! You'd ought to be ashamed, that's what you ought!" But the servant continued to laugh quietly and Rebecca raged within. Oh how she hated to have to sit thus close behind a man who had so insulted her! Clinging to him, too! Clinging for dear life to a man who accused her of drinking ale! They turned to the left into Leadenhall Street and Bucklesbury, where the two women sniffed with delighted relief the spicy odor of the herbs exposed on every hand for sale. They left Gresham's Royal Exchange on the right, and shortly afterward stopped before the door of one of the many well-to-do houses of that quarter. Sir Guy and the two women dismounted, and, while the groom held the horses, the others approached the building before which they had paused. Rebecca was about to address Phoebe, whose blushing face was beaming with pleasure, when the door was suddenly thrown open and a happy-looking buxom woman of advanced middle age appeared. "Well--well--well!" she cried, holding up her fat hands in mock amazement. "Out upon thee, Polly, for a light-headed wench! What--sneaking out to an early tryst! Fie, girl!" "Now, good mine aunt," Phoebe broke in, with a smile and a curtsey, "no tryst have I kept, in sooth. Sir Guy is my witness that he found me quite by chance." "In very truth, good Mistress Goldsmith," said the knight, "it was but the very bounteous guerdon of fair Dame Fortune that in the auspicious forthcoming of my steed I found the inexpressible delectancy of my so great discovery!" He bowed as he gave back one step and kissed his hand toward Phoebe. "All one--all one," said Dame Goldsmith, laughing as she held out her hand to Phoebe. "My good man hath a homily prepared for you, mistress, and the substance of it runneth on the folly of early rising on a May-day morning." Phoebe held forth her hand to the knight, who kissed it with a flourish, hat in hand. "Shall I hear from thee soon?" she said, in an undertone. "Forthwith, most fairly beautiful--most gracious rare!" he replied. Then, leaping on his horse, he dashed down the street at a mad gallop, followed closely by his groom. Rebecca stood stupefied, gazing first at one and then at the other, till she was rudely brought to her senses by no other than Dame Goldsmith herself. "What, Rebecca!" she exclaimed. "Hast breakfasted, woman--what?" "Ay, aunt," Phoebe broke in, hurriedly. "Rebecca must to my chamber to tire me ere I see mine uncle. Prithee temper the fury of his homily, sweet aunt." Taking the dame's extended hand, she suffered herself to be led within, followed by Rebecca, too amazed to speak.