"'SHE LED ME BUT A SHORT CHASE.'"
"The east side. 'Tis a goldsmith's shop. Does any one know what goldsmith dwells there?"
No one remembered. These were all gentlemen who, when they were not at sea, divided most of their time between the country and the court; at present they lodged toward the Charing Cross end of the Strand, in a row of houses opposite the riverside palaces of the great. But Jerningham himself lived with his kinsman, the bishop, in Winchester House, across the Thames.
"Time enough to learn that, and win a score of goldsmith's daughters, and tire of 'em too, ere the ship is fitted," said Ermsby, losing interest in the subject; whereupon the conversation shifted to the matter of the ship, then being repaired at Deptford.
From this they fell to dicing,—all but Jerningham, who sat looking steadily before him, as if he saw visions through the clouds of tobacco smoke he sent forth. Presently was heard the noise of pounding at the street door below.
"'Tis that rascal come back, ten to one; he has given over hunting you," said Ermsby to Jerningham.
"Then be sure you open not, Timothy," said Jerningham, addressing the tavern drawer who was staying up to wait upon those privileged to use the house after closing hours.
"No fear," replied Timothy. "They may hammer till they be dead, an they give not the right knock. I'll e'en go look down from the front window, and see who 'tis."