But the servant continued to laugh quietly and Rebecca raged within. Oh how she hated to have to sit thus close behind a man who had so insulted her! Clinging to him, too! Clinging for dear life to a man who accused her of drinking ale!
They turned to the left into Leadenhall Street and Bucklesbury, where the two women sniffed with delighted relief the spicy odor of the herbs exposed on every hand for sale. They left Gresham's Royal Exchange on the right, and shortly afterward stopped before the door of one of the many well-to-do houses of that quarter.
Sir Guy and the two women dismounted, and, while the groom held the horses, the others approached the building before which they had paused.
Rebecca was about to address Phœbe, whose blushing face was beaming with pleasure, when the door was suddenly thrown open and a happy-looking buxom woman of advanced middle age appeared.
"Well—well—well!" she cried, holding up her fat hands in mock amazement. "Out upon thee, Polly, for a light-headed wench! What—sneaking out to an early tryst! Fie, girl!"
"Now, good mine aunt," Phœbe broke in, with a smile and a courtsey, "no tryst have I kept, in sooth. Sir Guy is my witness that he found me quite by chance."
"In very truth, good Mistress Goldsmith," said the knight, "it was but the very bounteous guerdon of fair Dame Fortune that in the auspicious forthcoming of my steed I found the inexpressible delectancy of my so great discovery!"
He bowed as he gave back one step and kissed his hand toward Phœbe.
"All one—all one," said Dame Goldsmith, laughing as she held out her hand to Phœbe. "My good man hath a homily prepared for you, mistress, and the substance of it runneth on the folly of early rising on a May-day morning."
Phœbe held forth her hand to the knight, who kissed it with a flourish, hat in hand.