"Where is your magistrate, your justice?" asked the minister.
"The mayor? Why, there he be! Your worship"—raising his voice to a shout—"here be a stranger fares to see you!"
"Does stranger want a thatcher?" answered a voice. "If he wants a thatcher, I'll come down to he; but if he wants the mayor, he must come up to I!"
Mr. Rogers raised his eyes and saw a portly man standing on a ladder, with a handful of golden straw, putting the last touches to a thatched roof. The thatcher Mayor of Castle Rising was a well-known personage in the country, and, removing his hat, Mr. Rogers stepped to the foot of the ladder and bade the dignitary good morning.
"May I be so far troublesome, sir, as to ask if this fellow, who sits tied by the leg, is indeed the man who gave Justice Tomkins news of a plot?"
"I know nothing of Justice Tomkins, sir," answered the mayor, raising his hat in his turn, "neither does Justice Tomkins know aught of me. Castle Rising is my place of office, and thatching is my trade, and I meddle with no other man's business. That drunken knave hath frightened a woman and robbed a hen-roost, for which I have committed him to jail, as by my duty bound, and I know nothing more of him."
"Sir, your discretion does you great honour," answered Mr. Rogers. "But it is not from idle curiosity that I inquire concerning this man, but from interest in a young gentlewoman who, I fear, hath been frightened out of the country by his malicious tales."
The temptation to a gossip was too much for the mayor's dignity. He turned round on the top of his ladder, and settled himself leisurely and began—
"And who may this gentlewoman be, good sir?"
The man's face was sensible and honest. Mr. Rogers rapidly decided that his help would be worth seeking.