The packet that Master Jeffreys handed to Dorothy was too large and too heavy for a mere missive; and the maid, recalling some jocular promises of Raleigh’s, at once suspected that some London gew-gaw lay snug within, and tore off the wrappings with eager fingers. Her hopes were not disappointed, and a dainty pair of silver shoebuckles shone in the sunlight.

“Dear heart alive! surely they are not for me,” cried Dolly.

“Read the letter, mistress,” said Jeffreys.

A knot of blue ribbon was the only seal on the knight’s letter, and the blushing maiden opened and read; and, as she read, the rich colour of her cheeks grew ever richer and deeper, and Johnnie pulled his cap-feather to pieces and watched her. She finished, sighed, looked at her lover and at the writer’s messenger, then, with a “By your leave, Master Jeffreys,” she handed the missive to Johnnie. “Read,” she said.

“Nay, why should I?” was the somewhat sheepish response.

“Because I wish it,” said Dolly promptly.

“I am bad at reading script; each one hath too much of his own fashion in the twists and curls of the letters.”

“This is as plain as Bible print. Art going to London?”

“No!”

Dolly’s face fell. “Hath not Master Jeffreys given thee Sir Walter’s message?”

“Ay, and I have sent back a civil and courteous ‘No.’ What should I do in such a place?”

“What a question for a fellow of spirit to ask!” cried Dolly.

“What a question, indeed!” echoed Jeffreys; “and a sweet maid with her toes tingling to tread the golden pavements! Read, Master Morgan; the gallant knight’s words will speak more persuasively than my poor tongue.”

Johnnie took the letter, and read as follows:

“To MISTRESSE DAWE. Bye ye hande of my trustie manne, Timothie Jeffreys Greetynges to you, faire mistresse, and to youre excellent and honourable sire.

“To-daye, a softe wind hath come up from ye west, tempering ye heate and broil of ye towne, and whisperynge to me of cool forest glades and greene paths bye a rushynge river. Straightwaie closynge mine eyen to gette a cleare vision of ye same, I am minded of deare friendes whose feete have kept time with mine along ye shaded wayes. Here, before me on my table, hathe my servante placed freshe flowres from countrie hedgerowe and garden, to sweeten the close aire that cometh in from ye swelterynge streetes. And, straightwaie, I bethinke me how sweete this olde citie would be if onlie Ye Rose of Dean Forest would come hither with her coloure and her perfume!

“Soe, gentle mistresse and deare friende, I am, on ye sudden, hasting to do what I have purposed for many dayes. Her Majestie hathe a desire to see a certaine gallant youthe that dwelleth hard bye ye rivere atte Blakeney, and I have a desire to showe a pretty maiden ye sightes of London towne, of the whiche we spoke many a time in ye cool of ye forest. Therefore, come away with brave Master Morgan and youre estimable father, ye captaine. My manne will guide you, and I will welcome you righte heartilie. In assurance that you will come, I shall bespeake lodgynges with a worthie dame of my acquaintance. Persuade Master Morgan; it will be for his certaine goode. I shall command him bye worde of mouthe; but as I knowe the rogue though merrie enough in some wayes and eager for travel is rooted on Severne side like an oak, ’twill neede some powere like thine to move him.

“Commende me and my invitation to youre sire; accepte a triflynge gift at my handes; and may God be with you all and give us a joyouse meetynge. Youres, in all knightlie devoirs, WALTER RALEIGH.”

Johnnie handed the letter back.

“Well?” asked Dorothy.

“I do not think your father will consent; ’tis a perilous journey for a maid.”

“Not when three brave gentlemen ride with her.”

“I like not the scheme. What is London to home-dwelling forest folk?”

“’Tis the heart of the world,” broke in Jeffreys, “and no man can say he knoweth life until he hath felt the pulse-beat of the great city.”

“I am woodland bred, good sir, and shrink from the prisonment of streets and walls. Half a day in Gloucester makes me fret like a caged bird.”

“A man must see life in its many aspects if he would claim to have lived at all, Master Morgan.”

“I do not agree. A man will see deeper into a stream if he sits and watches than will a fellow who splashes noisily about. However, I am bounden to Mistress Dorothy by a hundred acts of kindness that she did me when I lay fevered and with a broken head. If her heart is set upon this jaunt, and her father does not say ‘Nay,’ I’ll to London or anywhere else she wills. Nevertheless, for my own liking, I had rather bide at home.”

Dorothy beamed at the forester. “I was half tempted to remind thee that thou didst owe me a mended head. I am glad I did not,” she said.

“There is no need to remind me of even a look thou hast given me,” replied Johnnie. “But here comes the captain; his word will be law to us in this matter.”

Captain Dawe came in, and welcomed Master Jeffreys most heartily when he learned whom he served. His brow puckered, however, over the knight’s letter.

“What dost thou say to the project?” he asked Morgan.

“I am pledged to do as Dorothy wishes.”

“And thy wish, my lass?”

“Is to go to London.”

“I might have guessed that without troubling to ask. My bones are getting old, and ’tis a long ride.”

“We will go at your own pace, father.”

“I must think on’t; ’tis no light matter for a simple man like myself.”

Captain Dawe thought over the matter for a night and a day, and he consulted half Newnham before he arrived at a decision. He made up his mind to go. Then came manifold preparations. Clothing and arms received careful attention. Dolly’s best gowns came out of lavender, and Morgan set the tailor busy upon new doublet and hosen. Master Jeffreys lodged with the captain, and gave all the benefit of his impartial advice. The knight’s man was a personage in Newnham for more than a week, and he carried off the dignity in excellent style. Johnnie bought Dorothy a stout saddle horse to replace the forest pony she usually rode; and at last, on a sunny morning, the little cavalcade rode along the river-path towards Gloucester. Several friends and neighbours went with them as far as the city.

They rested that night in Northleach, over the other side of the hills. Thence they went through Burford to Oxford; afterwards riding in easy daily stages through Wycombe and Uxbridge to London town. Halting for a last time at Mary-le-bone, a few miles from the city gates, where they cleansed themselves from the dust and soil of travelling, they rode thence to Charing, along the Strand past Alsatia, the Temple, and Whitefriars, and, crossing the Fleet River, entered the city by the Lud Gate, St. Paul’s great church looking down on them from the hilltop.

Master Jeffreys halted finally at the “Swanne,” in Wood Street off the Chepe.