Again the peddler looked on Calote.
“'T is a kind man,” said she, going up to the dais. “Hath done me much service in my wanderings. 'S tongue 's slow.”
Sir Austin smiled on her.
“A man plougheth not with his tongue, wench,” said he. “Neither hath he need of 's tongue to mind sheep, but if he whistle. Hark ye, rogue, I 'll give thee another day to gather together thy slow wits; thereafter thou 'lt labour, or get thee gone,—else I 'll make thee free o' the stocks.”
The villeins and other servitors were now lagging forth of the hall, and mid the noise and stir the peddler said to Calote, hastily:—
“D-dost thou bide long i-in this place?”
“How can I tell?” she answered.
“Wh-when thou art ready to begone, thou 'lt find me sh-shepherding on the wolds. Meanwhile, k-keep thy dagger loose in its sheath.”
Then he left her and went to the edge of the dais.
“S-sir Knight, I-I 'll make shift to aid thy sh-shepherd,” he said. And presently he was gone out with the villeins.