Hot he might be, but there was no persuading them, to put him down, and up the street they went again, cheering still, and between the old houses, until they stopped at Gervase’s door, where Elyas himself stood with Prothasy, and Joan clapping her hands with all her might. And there was more shouting and rejoicing when Elyas bid all the prentices to a feast in the meadows on St. Bartholomew’s Day, his own house not having space for such a number.
They separated at last, and reluctantly, after such a shrill burst of cheering as rang through the old city, and Hugh, who felt as if it were all some strange exciting dream, was thankful to find himself alone with those good friends to whom he owed his present fortune. Elyas put his hands on his shoulders, and looked into the clear eyes, now on a level with his own.
“Thy father could not have been more glad than I,” he said simply.
“I would I could thank thee, goodman,” said Hugh, in an unsteady voice, “for all comes from thee.”
“Nay, neither me nor thee, but from One Who gave the gift. And thou—thou hast kept covenant.”
“I looked not for anything like this.”
“Doubtless it hath been a little upsetting,” said Elyas, with a smile, “but it hath made Wat as happy as a king. Never was a more faithful friend, or that had less thought for himself. I verily believe he never cared for his own work; he did his best simply, and there left it. ’Tis a rare nature. Alack, alack, I would poor Roger had been as free from self-seeking!”
“Goodman,” said Hugh, hesitatingly, “hast thou heard aught of Roger?”
“I went to the Guildhall from the Cathedral and saw him. I might have been a stranger and an enemy,” Elyas added, sighing, “for all I could get from him.”
“Might I speak for him? Would they hearken? I love him not, in good sooth,” said Hugh frankly, “and I know not what I might have felt if he had succeeded; but ’tis easy to forgive when he hath done no one harm but himself. Maybe, sir, he might do better if he had another chance?”