“It is the only way,” he muttered to himself, as he tore the scrap into tiniest fragments, “but I must know from Kitty the hour.”  Then aloud, “Have you a bit of paper, friend, on which I can write a message?”

“Surely,” said the shopkeeper; “wait here a moment until I fetch it,” and he went hurriedly through a small door at the back of the shop, leaving the fisherman standing near the window, from which he could see the crowd outside.  Suddenly the man uttered an exclamation, and made a dash for the door, nearly upsetting the boy on the threshold.

“Tell your master I will return shortly,” he said hurriedly, and disappeared in the direction of the Vly Market.

It happened that Madam Cruger, thrifty housewife though she was, had forgotten to order an extra number of the large, flat seedcakes, known as New Year Cakes (and without which no gathering could be considered complete for New Year day, when they were handed to all callers with the accompanying glasses of mulled wine and metheglin), and had therefore dispatched her daughter, with a colored servant carrying a capacious basket on his arm, to purchase the dainty from the one stall in the Vly Market where the aristocratic folk were wont to deal.  Truth to tell, Madam Cruger had made matters somewhat uncomfortable for her portly cook when she learned that the cakes made by that functionary were too few to meet her ideas of hospitality; and although Kitty knew that it would require speed on her part to go to the market and return in time to dress and be ready to receive their visitors in the drawing-room by twelve o’clock, she preferred to pour oil on the troubled waters and procure domestic peace at the expense of a little personal fatigue.  Beside, it was not unpleasant to trip along with the merry crowd, bent on enjoying themselves, and Kitty knew that she would meet many an acquaintance, out, like herself, on some belated errand for New Year day.

But there was one occurrence for which Kitty had not bargained, and that befell her as she gained the market door.  The fisherman, who had followed her as swiftly as he dared without creating notice, passed close at her elbow, then turned and met her face to face.  Kitty grew a little pale as he touched his cap respectfully, but she stopped in obedience to the glance which met hers.

“A Happy New Year to you, my good man,” she said.  “I fear that you and your brother craftsmen suffer this terribly cold winter.  Stand aside out of the chilly wind which meets us through the market door and I will speak to you.  Cato,” to her servant, “go on to Fran Hansel’s stall, and let her weigh out five pounds of seedcakes for my mother; I will join you there in a moment,” and she turned back to the fisherman, knowing that in the crowd she was comparatively safe, provided her voice was not loud enough to attract attention.

“What is it?” she murmured, almost breathless from excitement, yet striving to maintain a quiet, even careless exterior.  “I hoped you had fulfilled your dangerous errand and gone hence two days ago.”