“No men, sir,” answered Margery.
“The stable is bad, sayst thou, Martin?” 216 with an expression of relief on his face as he heard the dame’s reply. “The dwelling, too, is none of the best.”
“None asked ye to enter it,” said the woman bluntly. “An ye like not mine abode, ye can leave it.”
“Hold thy tongue, old beldame!” said the leader imperiously. “Nay;” as the dame flashed an angry glance at him, “be not prodigal of thy looks. An thou cast the evil eye on me, I’ll sheathe my blade in thy flesh. We want no witch’s work here.”
Margery made no answer, but placed the supper before them. The men fell to, and soon disposed of all that was on the table. Then the leader began to show signs of impatience for the storm had not yet subsided.
“Beshrew me!” he exclaimed to his companions. “I fear that we will be compelled to pass the night in this vile place. Marry! how it rains!”
“It doth, Master Wainwright,” answered one. “But better the storm than pass the night in the abode of a witch, and if yon dame be not the veriest witch in the kingdom then I ne’er saw one. The house makes me creepy. 217 ’Tis fitting place for some dark deed to be committed. The horse in the stable, I dare say, belonged to some belated traveler caught like ourselves in a storm afar from an inn. Marked you how she answered me not when I spoke on’t? How the wind howls, and how blue the taper burns! ’Sblood! I’d sooner be out in the storm.”
“I would not,” observed Master Wainwright. “One drenching a day is enough for me. Marry! there is naught to do but to possess our souls in patience. I dare say, we will o’ertake the boy on the morrow.”
“Marry! yes, master. If he be out in this storm he will drown like a rat. Who would have thought that he could have kept so far ahead of us?”
“They ride fast who flee from justice,” quoth another sententiously. “If we be not careful he will outstrip us, and we will be void of our quarry.”