“To-day?” said Flemild and Derette together.
“Or to-morrow. A running footman came in an hour ago, to say she was at Abingdon, and bid my Lord hold himself in readiness to meet her at the East Gate. The vintners have had orders to send in two tuns of Gascon and Poitou wine; and Henry the Mason tells me a new cellar and chimney were made last week in the Queen’s chamber at Woodstock. Geoffrey the Sumpter was in town yesterday, buying budgets, coffers, and bottles. So if you girls want to see her, you had better make haste and get your work done, and tidy yourselves up, and be at the East Gate by noon or soon after.”
“Get their work done! Don’t you know better than that, Stephen? A woman’s work never is done. It’s you lazy loons of men that stop working and take your pleasure when night comes. Work done, indeed!”
“But, Isel, I will finish de work for you. Go you and take your pleasure to see de Queen, meine friend. You have not much de pleasure.”
“You’re a good soul, Agnes, and it was a fine day for me when I took you in last winter. But as for pleasure, it and me parted company a smart little while ago. Nay, let the maids go; I’ll tarry at home. You can go if you will.—Stephen! are you bound elsewhere, or can you come and look after the girls?”
“I can’t, Aunt Isel; I’m on duty in the Bayly in half an hour, and when I shall be free again you must ask my Lord or Master Mayor.”
“Never mind: the boys are safe to be there. Catch them missing a show! Now, Flemild, child, drop that washing; and leave the gavache (Note 1), Ermine, and get yourselves ready. It’s only once in three or four years at most that you’re like to see such a sight. Make haste, girls.”
There was little need to tell the girls to make haste. Flemild hastily wrung out the apron she was washing, and pinned it on the line; Ermine drew the thread from her needle—the entire household owned but one of those useful and costly articles—and put it carefully away; while Derette tumbled up the ladder at imminent risk to her limbs, to fling back the lid of the great coffer at the bed-foot, and institute a search, which left every thing in wild confusion, for her sister’s best kerchief and her own. Just as the trio were ready to start, Gerhardt came in.
“Saint Frideswide be our aid! wherever are them boys?” demanded Isel of nobody in particular.
“One on the top of the East Gate,” said Gerhardt, “and the other playing at quarter-staff in Pary’s Mead.”