“Other people in a fix have done that before,” said Castell, laughing, and bethinking him of a certain river quay.
“It wasn’t fair,” cried the boy indignantly. “Squirrels shouldn’t swim, and if I can catch it I will put it in a cage.”
“I think that squirrel will stop in the woods for the rest of its life, Peter.”
“Grandad!—Grandad!” called out the youngest child from the gate, whither she had wandered, being weary of the tale of the squirrel, “there are a lot of people coming down the road on horses, such fine people. Come and see.”
This news excited the curiosity of the old gentlemen, for not many fine people came to Dedham. At any rate both of them rose, somewhat stiffly, and walked to the gate to look. Yes, the child was right, for there, sure enough, about two hundred yards away, advanced an imposing cavalcade. In front of it, mounted on a fine horse, sat a still finer lady, a very large and handsome lady, dressed in black silks, and wearing a black lace veil that hung from her head. At her side was another lady, much muffled up as though she found the climate cold, and riding between them, on a pony, a gallant looking little boy. After these came servants, male and female, six or eight of them, and last of all a great wain, laden with baggage, drawn by four big Flemish horses.
“Now, whom have we here?” ejaculated Castell, staring at them.
Captain Smith stared too, and sniffed at the wind as he had often done upon his deck on a foggy morning.
“I seem to smell Spaniards,” he said, “which is a smell I don’t like. Look at their rigging. Now, Master Castell, of whom does that barque with all her sails set remind you?”
Castell shook his head doubtfully.
“I seem to remember,” went on Smith, “a great girl decked out like a maypole running across white sand in that Place of Bulls at Seville—but I forgot, you weren’t there, were you?”