The shepherd was an old man, somewhat bent with years and rheumatism, but still tall and stately, with white hair and beard, clear, somewhat dreamy blue eyes, and a firm and kindly mouth.
Jack felt attracted toward him directly, and was delighted to hear him consent at once to the proposed arrangement.
"My house is but a plain place, and my fare coarse and homely compared to yours, Master Lucas; but I can give the lad good beef, bread and milk, and mayhap the change itself will be well for him. My housekeeper, Margery, though somewhat of the deafest, is yet clean and a good cook, and I will care for Jack as if he were my own. More I cannot say."
"And more need not be said," answered the baker heartily. "I know you well, Thomas Sprat, for an honest, godly, and kind-hearted man, and I shall feel as easy about my lad as if he were in his own chamber. So then we will consider the matter settled, eh, Jack? And thou shalt learn to keep sheep, like the king the good priest was telling us of, he that wrote the Psalms—what a head I have, to be sure!"
"King David," said Jack. "But there will be no giants to fight at Holford, I am afraid."
"There are giants to fight everywhere, dear lad," said the shepherd, "yes, and dwarfs, too, worse than the giants."
"Dwarfs and giants in Holford! What does the man mean?" said the baker. "Oh, I see—this will be some of your parables!" he added, with a jolly laugh. "I am but a plain man, and don't understand such matters. You and Jack will suit exactly, I dare say. Well, then, it is settled, and as soon as the lad is able to ride so far I will bring him out to you."
"There is one thing for which I should like to be a priest," said Jack the next day.
He was lying at length on the settle in the sitting-room, and Anne sat sewing at the window.
"Only one?" said Anne.