"I will not fail thee," said the hatter. "And when I have taken charge of these little ones, I will bid her come to thee and give a due account of how she hath sped on her errand."
And, saying this, Master Drayton bade his friend farewell, and went at once to the waterside, where he feared the messenger would be waiting for him.
[CHAPTER II.]
DAME DRAYTON.
THE Thames in the reign of Charles the Second was the great highway of traffic for the city of London. There were no steamboats, it is true, but watermen, duly licensed by the city authorities, and wearing badges,—much as cabmen do at the present time,—were always ready with their boats to take passengers wherever they might want to go; then there were wherries, and splendidly decorated barges for pleasure parties; so that the river was always a scene of busy traffic, and especially towards dusk on a summer evening, for then people would be returning home, or hastening to embark; so that the time had been well chosen for the coming of the Westland children, for they were more likely to escape observation now than earlier in the day.
Triggs' Stairs was a well-known landing-place, not very far from his own home; and the hatter went by the shortest cuts, through the busy narrow streets leading to the river, for fear of keeping the messenger waiting, and thus attracting the attention of watermen and passengers alike.
But just as Master Drayton reached the top of the landing-stairs a boat touched the platform below, which the hatter felt sure had brought those he was seeking. The children were neatly clad, but there was a sad woe-begone look in their faces, and two of them seemed to shrink behind the young woman who sat between them. She too looked anxious, until she caught sight of the hatter, and then she seemed to gain more confidence, and led the children up the steps as briskly as their wet and dangerous condition would permit.
"Thee are sent to us by our brother Staples," she said, almost before the question of identification could be asked.