Mr. Shakespeare's Bastard by Richard B. Wright

and in a hurry to be away. So she was going to walk back to Coxton with a bundle of stolen silverware on her back, poor little mutt.
    “‘Needless to say, she was soon caught and taken to Bridewell. I visited her there. Brought her food and what little money I could spare, but she was never sturdy and already looked little else but skin and bones, her eyes so large and dark. They’d flogged her too, with all the fishwives jeering, and that took the heart out of her. I don’t think she was interested in living after that, and she wasn’t nearly strong enough for a place like Bridewell. I should have stolen something myself and gone in there to look after her, but I didn’t, and I never saw her again. When I went back, they told me she had taken a fever and left in a winding sheet. Already in the ground and no one could tell me where. London has plenty of stories like that, Elizabeth. This city can break you easily enough if you have no money or friends.’
    “I didn’t need to be reminded, for by then I was worried about overstaying in that tavern. I was sure the streets were dark by now and the Boyers would be waiting for me.
    “As if reading my mind, Mary said, ‘You’d better be on your way soon. Your Puritan keepers will be wondering where you are.’
    “Just then, a man stopped at our table. He wore a fine doublet and white silk stockings. Bending down, he kissedMary’s cheek. ‘As my life is my own, it’s Mary the Great. I haven’t seen you in weeks. How are you faring, my dear?’
    “‘Well enough, Tom,’ she said, and praised the man for a recent performance. ‘Best I’ve ever seen you do.’
    “He preened. ‘Kind of you to say so, but it was a trifle only. A mere few minutes in a man’s lifetime.’
    “‘Even so,’ said Mary, ‘you were good, Tom. Praise paid where praise is owing.’
    “‘Bless you, Mary.’ He bent again to kiss her. ‘I intend a visit soon. Perhaps next week.’
    “‘Send a boy ahead with your time.’
    “‘You may depend on it.’
    “After he left us, Mary said, ‘That fellow is in Marley’s
Tamburlaine
and he was good. I told no lie. They are all good and especially Ned Alleyn. Would you like to see it, Elizabeth?’
    “‘I would,’ I said. ‘I have Wednesday and Sunday afternoons to myself.’
    “Mary startled me and others around by smacking the table with one big fist. ‘Done, then. We’ll go this Wednesday. Meet me at St. Magnus Church at noon. Now listen,’ she added, leaning forward. ‘At first you may not recognize me but don’t alarm yourself, because I will speak my name.’ When I asked her why I wouldn’t recognize her, she only shrugged. ‘Let’s get you back to your quarters. I have an engagement, but I’ve arranged for a boy to see you home.’
    “When I told her about my first experience with street urchins, she said, ‘Well, you were just off the pack train, so what did you expect? But that carrier should have known better. This boy will do what I tell him and he’s been paid, so give him nothing. He’s strong too and will see that you come to no harm.’”
    Mam told me then she was worried walking back with the boy. “I knew I had overstayed my time allowed, and I feared Eliza’s tongue. But after the boy delivered me to the shop and I knocked, Philip himself came to the door in his shirtsleeves. He let me in and nothing was said, and that was that. I can’t tell you how relieved I felt.”
    The following Wednesday Mam walked to St. Magnus Corner, wondering, so she told me, if Mary Pinder earned her living in a house of sale. All week she had thought about the man who had stopped at their table in the Dolphin on Saturday night, and then about Mary telling her later that she had an appointment. Mam asked, did I know what she was talking about? I said I thought I did. I knew a girl in the village a year or two older than me, dull-witted but comely enough, who, it was said, allowed boys to put their things into her down by