and the cowed man came to a parley, the result of which was that, with a
whoop of "pots round," they all crowded back into the ale-house, and we
were once more alone on the river.

"The ordeal by water and by fire," I said. "Push out, Joe."

"Gom! Owd Bess give 'im sock," he replied, and levered the nose of the
boat into midstream again.

Although there was no real need for it, the escape kept us all quiet. I
persuaded Mistress Waynflete to lie down, so as to avoid the biting wind
that was sweeping across the river, and Joe and I by turns made such
progress that in less than an hour we drew up to the town meadow.

The greatest caution was now necessary, since we saw that the bridge
leading into the town was thronged with people, many carrying lanterns or
torches. The town wall ran parallel to the river, on our right, with a
narrow fringe of meadow between them. Here the wall was for the most part
tumbled into ruins, and in the gaps stood little cottages, built in part
of the stones that had once formed the wall. In one of these lived little
old Marry-me-quick, Mistress Martha Tonks, to give her her christening
name, and we ran up to the bank level with her place without being
observed from the bridge, although it was only a few boat-lengths distant.

I stepped cautiously out and tiptoed to her back window. There the
ancient maiden was, busily engaged in the manufacture of her staple, no
doubt in anticipation of a greater demand for it in these stirring days,
when much extra money would be passing around in the town, and many
pennies thereof would dribble into the pockets of the youngsters. I lifted
the latch and stepped in. She squeaked with affright till she saw who it