"Of course you don't," he said gently, "and I'm a goose to think you should. No, you will have to go out into the world, and to learn for yourself that it is just the same there as everywhere: butter and cheese making, prize-winning and prize-losing, and very little satisfaction either over the winning or the losing; and a great many Auntie Lloyds, probably a good deal more trying than the Little Stretton Auntie Lloyd. Only, if I were you, I should not talk about it any more. I should just go. Saddle the white horse and go! Get your experiences, thick and quick. Then you will be glad to rest."
"Are you making fun of me?" she asked half suspiciously, for he had previously joked about the slow pace of the white horse.
"No," he answered, in his kind way; "why should I make fun of you? We cannot all be content to go on living a quiet life in a little village."
At that moment the exciseman passed by them on horseback. He raised his hat to Joan, and looked with some curiosity at Hieronymus. Joan colored. She remembered that she had not behaved kindly to him yesterday; and after all, he was David, David who had always been good to her, ever since she could remember.
"Who was that?" asked Hieronymus. "What a trim, nice-looking man!"
"He is David Ellis, the exciseman," Joan said, half reluctantly.
"I wonder when he is going to test the beer at the Green Dragon," said the historian anxiously. "I wouldn't miss that for anything. Will you ask him?"
Joan hesitated. Then she hastened on a few steps, and called "David!"
David turned in his saddle, and brought his horse to a standstill. He wondered what Joan would have to say to him.
"When are you going to test the beer at the Green Dragon?" she asked.