“Hurrah!” shouted Nicholas Attwood, his blue eyes shining with delight. “Hurrah, hurrah, for the Admiral’s men!” And high in the air he threw his cap, as a wild cheer broke from the eddying crowd, and the arches of the long gray bridge rang hollow with the tread of hoofs. Whiff, came the wind; down dropped the hat upon the very saddle-peak of one tall fellow riding along among the rest. Catching it quickly as it fell, he laughed and tossed it back; and when Nick caught it whirling in the air, a shilling jingled from it to the ground.
Then up Fore Bridge street they all trooped after into Stratford town.
“Oh,” cried Robin, “it is brave, brave!”
“Brave?” cried Nick. “It makes my very heart jump. And see, Robin, ’tis a shilling, a real silver shilling—oh, what fellows they all be! Hurrah for the Lord High Admiral’s men!”
CHAPTER II
NICHOLAS ATTWOOD’S HOME
Nick Attwood’s father came home that night bitterly wroth.
The burgesses of the town council had ordered him to build a chimney upon his house, or pay ten shillings fine; and shillings were none too plenty with Simon Attwood, the tanner of Old Town.
“Soul and body o’ man!” said he, “they talk as if they owned the world, and a man could na live upon it save by their leave. I must build my fire in a pipe, or pay ten shillings fine? Things ha’ come to a pretty pass—a pretty pass, indeed!” He kicked the rushes that were strewn upon the floor, and ground the clay with his heel. “This litter will ha’ to be all took out. Atkins will be here at six i’ the morning to do the job, and a lovely mess he will make o’ the house!”
“Do na fret thee, Simon,” said Mistress Attwood, gently. “The rushes need a changing, and I ha’ pined this long while to lay the floor wi’ new clay from Shottery common. ’Tis the sweetest earth! Nick shall take the hangings down, and right things up when the chimley ’s done.”