As Richard gave back the bowl, the woman espied his hands.
"Mother of mercy! why, where are your fingers? you are a leper, out! out! John, turn out the dogs."
"Nay! nay! we will go; only throw us a piece of bread."
"Why are you not shut up? Good Saints!"
"Please do not be hard upon us—give us some bread."
"Will you promise to go away?"
"Yes, if you will give us some bread."
"Keep off, then;" and the good woman, a little softened, gave them some oaten cakes, just as her husband appeared in the distance coming in from the fields.
"Now off, before any harm come of it; go back to Byfield lazar-house."
"It was so dreadful; we have run away."