"With a lamp hanging from the roof?"
"No, that's the moon for the players. They will light it soon, and we shall know that it is night then, and folks can't see each other without the moon. Look there;" and he pointed to where two or three gaily-bedecked ladies and some equally gaily-attired gallants were conversing together in a part of the courtyard which was separated from the rest by a rope which stretched from end to end.
"Well, I see them," he said. "Who might they be, prithee?"
"They might be Pope Joan and the cardinals, but they are not."
"Then who are they?"
"That thin man, with the big buckles on his shoes, is Sir Henry
Sidney."
"Never!" ejaculated Edmund, "he is too gray haired."
"Even so, James. He is the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and that light-haired boy beside him is little Philip. He is the pet of the Court already, but heigho! whom have we here? Why, it is, yes—it is the Lord High Treasurer himself!"
"So it is," murmured Edmund, as he carefully retreated well into the shade. "This door won't attract attention, eh?"
"No, thank goodness, for I can't very well get out now. You see, 'tis only a loft door, and it is as often open as shut. They will think I have been pitching some hay in."