“They’re not,” said Barbara. “I know where all our hens’ nests are, and Gaffer Edmunds’ too. We sell for him since he had the palsy.”
Then a tall man in a sort of uniform stopped, eyed the staff, and without asking leave took one of the geese from the pen and strode off with it hissing and squawking under his arm. But Michael shook his head soberly as Barbara sprang up with a startled face.
“That was one o’ the purveyors of my lord Fitz-Walter,” he said. “He may pay for the bird and he may not, but you can’t refuse him. There’s one good thing—London folk don’t have to feed the King’s soldiers nor his household. Old King Henry,—rest his soul!—settled that in the Charter he gave the City, and this one has kept to it. My grand-dad used to tell how any time you might have a great roaring archer or man-at-arms, or more likely two or three or a dozen, quartered in your house, willy nilly, for nobody knew how long. There goes the bell for Prime—that ends the privilege.”
Then Barbara remembered that the stewards of great houses were allowed to visit the market and choose what they wished until Prime (about six o’clock) after which the market was open to common folk. A merchant’s wife bought another goose and some cherries, and the remaining goose was taken off her hands by the good-natured Michael, to make up a load of his own for a tavern-keeper. The rest of the cherries were sold to a young man who was very particular about the way in which they were arranged in the basket, and Barbara guessed that he was going to take them as a present to some one. The cress had gone a handful at a time with the other things, and she had some of it for her own dinner, with bread from the bakeshop and some cold meat which Goody Collins, her neighbor on the other side, had sent for. She started for home in good time, and brought her little store of money to her mother before any one had even begun to worry over her absence.
The next market-day Barbara set forth with a light heart, but when she reached her stall she found it occupied. A rough lout had set up shop there, with dressed poultry for sale. A-plenty had been said about it before Barbara arrived, both by Michael and the rough-tongued, kind-hearted market-women. But Michael was old and fat, and no match for the invader. Barbara stood in dismay, a great basket of red roses on her head, her egg-basket on the ground, and the cherries from their finest tree in a panier hung from her shoulder. The merchant’s wife had asked her if she could not bring some roses for rose-water and conserve, and if she had to hawk them about in the sun they would be fit for nothing. The Poultry was crowded, and unless she could have her little foothold here she would be obliged to go about the streets peddling, which she knew her mother would not like at all.
“What’s the trouble here?” asked a decided voice behind her. She turned to look up into the cool gray eyes of a masterful young fellow with a little old woman tucked under his arm. He was brown and lithe and had an air of outdoor freshness, and suddenly she recognized the old woman. It was that first customer, and this must be the grandson of whom she had spoken so fondly.
“This man says he has this place and means to keep it,” Barbara explained in a troubled but firm little voice. “He says that only the poultry dealers have any right here,—but it’s Mother’s corner and she has had it a long time.”
“Aye, that she has,” chorused two or three voices. “And if there was a man belonging to them you’d see yon scamp go packing, like a cat out o’ the dairy. ’Tis a downright shame, so ’tis.”
“Maybe a man that don’t belong to them will do as well,” said the youth coolly. “Back here, gammer, out of the way—and you go stand by her, little maid. Now then, you lummox, are you going to pick up your goods and go, or do I have to throw them after you?”
The surly fellow eyed the new-comer’s broad shoulders and hard-muscled arms for a moment, picked up his poultry and began to move, but as he loaded his donkeys he said something under his breath which Barbara did not hear. An instant later she beheld him lying on his back in a none-too-clean gutter with her defender standing over him. He lost no time in making his way out of the street, followed by the laughter of the Poultry. Even the ducks, geese and chickens joined in the cackle of merriment.