"Why, where would you have them throw them, dame?" asked her companion, in surprise. "Are ye outlandish bred that ye put me such questions?"
"Not much!" she retorted, hotly. "It's you folks that's outlandish. Why, where I come from they hev sewers in the city streets an' pavements an' sidewalks an' trolley cars. Guess I've ben to Keene, an' I ought to know."
She tossed her head with the air of one who has said something conclusive.
The man held his peace for a moment, dumfounded. Then he laughed heartily, with head thrown back.
"That's what comes of a kittenish hoyden for a mistress. Abroad too early, dame, and strong ale before sunrise! These have stolen away your wits and made ye hold strange discourse. Sewers--side-walkers forsooth--troll carries, ho--ho!"
Rebecca grew red with fury. She released her hold to thump her companion twice on the arm and nearly fell from the horse in consequence.
"You great rascal!" she cried, indignantly. "How dare ye talk 'bout drinkin' ale! D'you s'pose I'd touch the nasty stuff? Me--a member of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union! Me--a Daughter of Temperance an' wearin' the blue ribbon! You'd ought to be ashamed, that's what you ought!"
But the servant continued to laugh quietly and Rebecca raged within. Oh how she hated to have to sit thus close behind a man who had so insulted her! Clinging to him, too! Clinging for dear life to a man who accused her of drinking ale!
They turned to the left into Leadenhall Street and Bucklesbury, where the two women sniffed with delighted relief the spicy odor of the herbs exposed on every hand for sale. They left Gresham's Royal Exchange on the right, and shortly afterward stopped before the door of one of the many well-to-do houses of that quarter.
Sir Guy and the two women dismounted, and, while the groom held the horses, the others approached the building before which they had paused.
Rebecca was about to address Phoebe, whose blushing face was beaming with pleasure, when the door was suddenly thrown open and a happy-looking buxom woman of advanced middle age appeared.
"Well--well--well!" she cried, holding up her fat hands in mock amazement. "Out upon thee, Polly, for a light-headed wench! What--sneaking out to an early tryst! Fie, girl!"