“Have you all you need, now, Malledge?”
“All but one matter, Master Sumner—we know not yet where Hall dwelleth. Trust me, but I coveted your grave face, when we heard tell of Tabby horsewhipping yon Benden!”
“He hath his demerits,” said the sumner,—that is, the official who served the summonses to the ecclesiastical courts.
“Of that I cast no doubt; nor care I if Tabby thrash him every day, for my part. When come we in our proper persons, to do our work?”
“That cannot I tell. We must first make report to my Lord of Dover.”
A young girl and a little child came tripping down the road. The short man drew bridle and addressed them.
“Pray you, my pretty maids, can you tell me where dwelleth Mistress Bradbridge? I owe her a trifle of money, and would fain pay the same.”
“Oh yes, sir!” said little Patience Bradbridge eagerly; “she’s my mother. She dwells in yon white house over the field yonder.”
“And Master Roger Hall, where dwelleth he?”
Penuel Pardue hastily stopped her little friend’s reply.