“An ungracious little varlet!” said one.
“Tut, man, he could scarce keep back his tears,” said another who saw further.
“What makes the master take another prentice? I thought Mistress Prothasy would never abide more than two. And there was thy nephew, William, if a third must be.”
“The master will do what pleases him,” said Franklyn stiffly.
“Or what pleases Mistress Prothasy, and most likely this is her fancy. She would have another Wat in the house.”
This was followed by a loud laugh, for Wat’s awkwardnesses were well-known to bring him into sore disfavour with the mistress of the house.
The day went by, and the night came on again. Elyas proposed sitting up himself, but Stephen refused, saying that he wanted no one but Hugh.
“And I think I shall sleep well,” he added, with a feeble smile.
Afterwards, Gervase thought he meant more than his words conveyed.
Before Hugh lay down his father made him put back the shutter from the little window, and look out upon the night. All was quiet, lights were extinguished, every now and then the watchmen came up and down the street, but no other noises were abroad; the opposite houses rose up so closely that from the balconies it looked as if it were possible to touch hands, and over head, though it was late autumn, the moon shone in a serene sky, sending her silver rays into the narrow street and intensifying all the shadows. Stephen listened, while Hugh told him just what he could see.