Harry entered. A clerk was in the shop, engaged in writing, and an
apprentice was rolling up a piece of silk. Harry removed his hat, and
went up to the merchant's table, and laying a letter upon it, said:

"I have come, sir, from Dame Marjory, my aunt, who was your honor's
nurse, with a letter from her, praying you to take me as an apprentice."

The merchant glanced for a moment at the boy. He was expecting a message
from the Royalist camp, and his keen wit at once led him to suspect that
the bearer stood before him, although his appearance in nowise justified
such a thought, for Harry had assumed with his peasant clothes a look of
stolid stupidity which certainly gave no warrant for the thought that a
keen spirit lay behind it. Without a word the merchant opened the
letter, which, in truth, contained nearly the same words which Harry had
spoken, but whose signature was sufficient to the merchant to indicate
that his suspicions were correct.

"Sit down," he said to the lad. "I am busy now; but will talk with you
anon."

Harry took his seat on a low stool, while the merchant continued his
writing as before, as if the incident were too unimportant to arrest his
attention for a moment. Harry amused himself by looking round the shop,
and was specially attracted by the movements of the apprentice, a
sharp-looking lad, rather younger than himself, and who, having heard
what had passed, seized every opportunity, when he was so placed that
neither the merchant nor his clerk could observe his face to make
grimaces at Harry, indicative of contempt and derision. Harry was sorely
tempted to laugh; but, with an effort, he kept his countenance, assuming
only a grim of wonder which greatly gratified Jacob, who thought that he