before they could have got at us."

Our talk had brought us to an alley containing a side entrance to Master
Dobson's fine, old, timbered house, the pride of the town and known there
as the "Ancient High House." It stood on the main street of the town,
which led from the bridge to the market-place. For a moment I was
undecided, since I had obtained the news that mattered most, but I had
only been out a short time, the rabbit-stew would not be ready, Mistress
Waynflete was safe and comfortable, and might prefer to be alone, it was
possible that I might learn something further--and on these grounds I
decided that it would be well worth while to accept Jack's invitation. I
therefore followed him into the withdrawing-room. Here I paid due
courtesies to buxom Mistress Dobson and Mistress Priscilla Dobson, Jack's
oldest sister, a wasp-waisted bundle of formalities, for ever curtsying
and coquetting, after the London mode as she fondly imagined. My back
fairly ached with answering bobs and bows before we had drunk our part of
a dish of tea, which Mistress Dobson had brewed wherewith to refresh
herself after the toils of hospitality, but at last I jerked my way out at
Jack's heels, and we climbed to the stately barrel-roofed room where the
great ones were assembled.

Horseshoe-wise round a mighty fire of logs, with a small table covered
with decanters and glasses between each pair, some dozen men sat at their
wine. There was, of course, Master Dobson, his meagre body all a twitter
with importance, sitting in the centre of the bend, opposite the fire,
whence he could survey all his guests at once, and urge them on with their
carousing.

"My son returneth, my lord," he said, "with news from the worshipful the
Mayor, and he hath brought with him a worthy yeoman, one Master Wheatman,