So it was settled, and, in spite of the friar’s forebodings, Stephen Bassett thought of his venture with an excellent heart. Hugh was naturally fearless, and, though the sea was a great object of dread in those times, he believed his father knew best, and began to look forward also. But first he would have Bassett come forth for his promised walk, and without Matthew.
“He has been very good to thee,” said the carver reproachfully.
“Ay, but he has always something to say against everything. This might be better, or that couldn’t be worse. I believe he would find fault with King Edward himself.”
“Poor Matthew! He has the critical spirit,” said Stephen, smiling.
“Is that what makes him so thin?” demanded Hugh, innocently.
“Ay. It often works that way, and is bad for the owner. Nevertheless, it has its advantages. Look at that bowl. If I listened to the good brothers I should deem it perfect; but when Matthew says, ‘Hum—I know not—is there not something lacking?’ I begin to search for a way of bettering it, and presently find that he was right. So his fault-finding does me a better service than all their praise. Keep that in mind, Hugh. Now we will forth. I will buy some cloth and take it to one of the tailors’ guild, that you may have a cloak for rough weather like mine.”
This was a delightful errand, and when it was ended Stephen had not the heart to refuse Hugh when he begged that he would try to go towards St. Paul’s and see the noble church. The boy was very happy in acting as showman, pointing out the beautiful spire while they were yet at some distance. He had begged to bring Agrippa, promising to keep him covered by a piece of cloth, and the monkey was sufficiently alarmed by the strange noises and cries in the street to keep quiet. Hugh found it a rare opportunity to ask questions which Matthew had been either unable or unwilling to answer.
“Look, father, look quickly! There is a woman with bread in her panniers! What is she doing?”
“I have heard of her,” said Stephen, stopping. “Friar Luke told me that, instead of folk being forced to fetch the daily bread from the bakers, there was now a woman who had got leave to take it round from house to house. She has the thirteenth loaf for her pains. Truly there’s no knowing to what a pitch of luxury we may come! Are we nearly at our journey’s end, Hugh? My legs have fallen out of the way of walking, and are true sluggards.”
