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Ned?”
    I did not linger to listen to Ned’s reply. I was already more familiar with his troubles than I cared to be. They were predictable, in any case, nearly always involving either a game of chance, a drunken brawl, or an insult to someone’s honor—very often a woman’s. Occasionally he managed to combine all three. The most predictable thing was that Ned himself wasnever at fault. He was, he insisted, a mere victim of circumstances, condemned by Fate forever to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and in the wrong company.
    I made for the tiring-room, meaning to unpack and examine my costume for that night’s performance of
The Two Gentlemen of Verona
. I found Sam rummaging through a costume trunk like a badger digging a den. The floor was strewn ankle-deep with gowns and cloaks, doublets and breeches. There was no sign of our tiring-man. “Where’s Richard, then?” I asked.
    “At home,” Sam replied without looking up from his task. “Sick with the ague.”
    “Oh,” I said. “That’s good. I was afeared ‘a might be buried under all this. I thought you were supposed to be straightening up this room.”
    “I am!”
    “Well, an this is your notion of straightening up, I’d hate to see you make a mess.”
    He paused from his pawing to wave his arms about despairingly. “I can’t find my costume for tonight! I’ve looked everywhere!”
    I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Calm yourself, Sam. It’s certain to be here somewhere—beneath all this, no doubt.” I picked up several items of clothing, smoothed them out, and hung them on one of the many hooks that lined the walls. “You’ve made a mingle-mangle of these. Help me sort them out.”
    Grumpily, Sam left off digging and set about separating the costumes into lots, according to the name tags that were sewn inside them. “This gown says
Julia
. Does that mean Julia the character, or Julia the real person?”
    “Julia the character.” I picked up the dress labeled
Silvia
and held it up near the window to catch the dull winter daylight.There was a ragged hole under one arm. “Oh, gis. A rat’s been gnawing at me gown. It’ll ha’ to be mended.”
    “Never mind that now,” Sam said. “Help me find Lucetta’s costume. If it doesn’t turn up, they’ll take it out of my pay.”
    “Surely they wouldn’t blame
you
, would they?”
    “That’s the rule. We’re each of us responsible for our own stuff.”
    “Oh. I thought it was up to the tiring-man to take care of the costumes.”
    Sam shook his head. “The sharers made the rule several years ago, when costumes started disappearing. As it turned out, one of the hired men was making off with them and selling them for several pounds apiece.”
    “Gog’s nowns! They’re worth that much?”
    “Why do you think I’m so frantic to find mine? Even if they held back my whole wages, it would take me months to pay it off.”
    “Unless, of course, you win the lottery,” I said.
    “Well, I was hoping you’d help me out, once you come into that fortune.”
    “I might. For now, let’s keep looking.”
    Between us, we shook out and hung up every piece of clothing from the trunk. There was no sign of Sam’s costume for
Two Gentlemen
. Sighing, he sat on the trunk and put his head in his hands. “It’s no use. I’m in the briars.”
    “Perhaps it got put i’ some other trunk by mistake?”
    “Well, we don’t have the time to go through them all. I’ll just have to wear something else.” He eyed my gown, which was spread out on the windowsill. “Perhaps I’ll wear yours. As much as you’ve grown in the past year, I’ll wager it no longer fits you.”
    “I’ll wager it does.”
    “A penny?”
    “A penny.” I began unhooking the front of my doublet.
    Sam picked up Sal Pavy’s gown and studied the tag that read
Julia
. “What do you hear from the real Julia, then?”
    I tossed my doublet aside and started on my linen shirt. “Naught, for three months or more. I hope