Meanwhile I recalled not a few rumours I had heard about Master Walgrave. One was, that, though he was only licenced to have one press, and seemed to have no more, yet (it was whispered of some), he had another in hiding, which now I found to be true. Moreover, as I was in Stationers’ Hall one day, a month or more ago, to pay the fee for a register, I overheard Timothy Ryder the beadle and another talking about my master.
“He prints more than he registers,” said one.
“And he should have his ears cropped for his pains,” said Timothy, “did I but know where to have him.”
Then seeing that I waited (for they had forgot to give me my acquittance), they dropped talking suddenly.
By all this I guessed that my master was no favourite with them of Stationers’ Hall, and, moreover, that he was addicted to disorderly practices contrary to the Acts binding printers. But so well did he keep his own secret, and so busy was I with my own affairs, that it all passed from my mind, and now only returned when I saw that what had been said of him was true.
He came up from below presently, and I was ready for him. “Master,” said I, “I have displeased you against my will, and I have seen what you would fain have kept a secret. You shall find it remains safe with me, for I am your ’prentice and bound to you. Therefore cheer up.”
He brightened at this.
“You are a good lad,” said he. “It concerns no one what I do below. ’Tis an amusement of my own, no more.”
As he stood there, pale and anxious, with weary eyes, it seemed to me an amusement which yielded him but little sport. However, I did not dispute the matter, and we said no more about it.
But after that day I observed that my master, although he seemed to like me less, was more sparing of his bitter words than heretofore. Whereby I guessed plainly enough that the amusement he spoke of, were it to come to the ears of the Master and Wardens of the Company, would get him into no little trouble.