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l6
THE king's yard
he clipped his words, opening his mouth just long
enough to fire them out, and closing
it
again with a
snap that irritated Mrs. Mildwater. His
yellow skin,
his black hair and beetling eyebrows, and the scowl
upon his face, made more repulsive by the scar, gave
the woman an uncomfortable feeling as to his honesty,
and puzzled her husband, who, still holding the candle
with great steadiness lest a spot of grease should fall
upon the white scrubbed floor and upset his peace
for a week, looked anxiously at his wife to see what
she could make of the stranger.
Mrs. Mildwater, speaking slowly and solemnly, and
eyeing the would-be lodger severely, said :
" I have a room to let, ten shillings a week and all
found. But you ain't a matey."
" No, I'm not a matey, but my father was. He
belonged to the ropemakers' guild, and once worked
in the Yard.
brought up.
Then he went to America, where I was
Perhaps your husband might have heard
of my people. Hill was the name,"
" Afore my time, I believe,'' remarked Mr.
Mildwater.
" Yes ; my
relations have been dead many years—
they died in the colonies."
"
Ah !
That's it, is it ? " said Mrs. Mildwater, " and
what might you be now ? Mildwater is in the Yard.
He is a leading ropemaker, and my room has always