The Sign of the Red Cross

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The Sign of the Red Cross

The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Sign Of The Red Cross, by Evelyn
Everett-Green
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Title: The Sign Of The Red Cross
Author: Evelyn Everett-Green
Release Date: October 23, 2004 [eBook #13840]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SIGN
OF THE RED CROSS***
E-text prepared by Martin Robb

THE SIGN OF THE RED CROSS

A Tale of Old London
by
EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN
CHAPTER I.
A WARNING WHISPER.
"I don't believe a word of it!" cried the Master Builder, with some heat
of manner. "It is just an old scare, the like of which I have heard a
hundred times ere now. Some poor wretch dies of the sweating sickness,
or, at worst, of the spotted fever, and in a moment all men's mouths are
full of the plague! I don't believe a word of it!"
"Heaven send you may be right, good friend," quoth Rachel Harmer, as
she sat beside her spinning wheel, and spoke to the accompaniment of
its pleasant hum. "And yet, methinks, the vice and profligacy of this
great city, and the lewdness and wanton wickedness of the Court, are
enough to draw down upon us the judgments of Almighty God. The sin
and the shame of it must be rising up before Him day and night."
The Master Builder moved a little uneasily in his seat. For his own part
he thought no great harm of the roistering, gaming, and gallantries of
the Court dandies. He knew that the times were very good for him. Fine
ladies were for ever sending for him to alter some house or some room.
Gay young husbands, or those who thought of becoming husbands,
were seldom content nowadays without pulling their house about their
ears, and rebuilding it after some new-fangled fashion copied from
France. Or if the structure were let alone, the plenishings must be
totally changed; and Master Charles Mason, albeit a builder by trade,
and going generally amongst his acquaintances and friends by the name
of Master Builder, had of late years taken to a number of kindred
avocations in the matter of house plenishings, and so forth. This had
brought him no small profit, as well as intimate relations with many a
fine household and with many grand folks. Money had flowed apace
into his pocket of late. His wife had begun to go about so fine that it

was well for her the old sumptuary laws had fallen into practical disuse.
His son was an idle young dog, chiefly known to the neighbourhood as
being the main leader of a notorious band of Scourers, of which more
anon, and many amongst his former friends and associates shook their
heads, and declared that Charles Mason was growing so puffed up by
wealth that he would scarce vouchsafe a nod to an old acquaintance in
the street, unless he were smart and prosperous looking.
The Master Builder had a house upon Old London Bridge. Once he had
carried on his business there, but latterly he had grown too fine for that.
To the disgust of his more simple-minded neighbours, he had taken
some large premises in Cheapside, where he displayed many fine stuffs
for upholstering and drapery, where the new-fashioned Indian carpets
were displayed to view, and fine gilded furniture from France, which a
little later on became the rage all through the country. His own house
was now nothing more than a dwelling place for himself and his family;
even his apprentices and workmen were lodged elsewhere. The
neighbours, used to simpler ways, shook their heads, and prophesied
that the end of so much pride would be disaster and ruin. But year after
year went by, and the Master Builder grew richer and richer, and could
afford to laugh at the prognostications of those about him, of which he
was very well aware.
He was perhaps somewhat puffed up by his success. He was certainly
proud of the position he had made. He liked to see his wife sweep
along the streets in her fine robes of Indian silk, which seemed to set a
great gulf between her and her neighbours. He allowed his son to copy
the fopperies of the Court gallants, and even to pick up the silly French
phrases which made the language at Court a mongrel mixture of bad
English and vile French. All these things pleased him well, although he
himself