By dint of working early and late, Amphillis was just ready on the day appointed--small thanks to her cousins, who not only shirked her work, but were continually summoning her from it to do theirs. Mr Altham gave his niece some good advice, along with a handsome silver brooch, a net of gold tissue for her hair, commonly called a crespine or dovecote, and a girdle of black leather, set with bosses of silver-gilt. These were the most valuable articles that had ever yet been in her possession, and Amphillis felt herself very rich, though she could have dispensed with Ricarda's envious admiration of her treasures, and Alexandra's acetous remarks about some people who were always grabbing as much as they could get. In their father's presence these observations were omitted, and Mr Altham had but a faint idea of what his orphan niece endured at the hands--or rather the tongues--of his daughters, who never forgave her for being more gently born than themselves. Lammas Day dawned warm and bright, and after early mass in the Church of Saint Mary at Strand--which nobody in those days would have dreamed of missing on a saint's day--Amphillis placed herself at an upstairs window to watch for her escort. She had not many minutes to wait, before two horses came up the narrow lane from the Savoy Palace, and trotting down the Strand, stopped at the patty-maker's door. After them came a baggage-mule, whose back was fitted with a framework intended to sustain luggage. One horse carried a man attired in white linen, and the other bore a saddle and pillion, the latter being then the usual means of conveyance for a woman. On the saddle before it sat a middle-aged man in the royal livery, which was then white and red. The man in linen alighted, and after a few minutes spent in conversation with Mr Altham, he carried out Amphillis's luggage, in two leather trunks, which were strapped one on each side of the mule. As soon as she saw her trunks disappearing, Amphillis ran down and took leave of her uncle and cousins. "Well, my maid, God go with thee!" said Mr Altham. "Forget not thine old uncle and these maids; and if thou be ill-usen, or any trouble hap thee, pray the priest of thy parish to write me a line thereanent, and I will see what can be done." "Fare thee well, Phyllis!" said Alexandra, and Ricarda echoed the words. Mr Altham helped his niece to mount the pillion, seated on which, she had to put her arms round the waist of the man in front, and clasp her hands together; for without this precaution, she would have been unseated in ten minutes. There was nothing to keep her on, as she sat with her left side to the horse's head, and roads in those days were rough to an extent of which we, accustomed to macadamised ways, can scarcely form an idea now. And so, pursued for "luck" by an old shoe from Ricarda's hand, Amphillis Neville took her leave of London, and rode forth into the wide world to seek her fortune.