“You don’t surely mean that such a man as my father has been taken from his people, and from his own house and home?”
“Yes but I do. The good shepherd is gone, and we have a false goatherd in his place,—a wolf in shepherd’s clothing.”
“Where then is my father gone? Where shall I find him?”
“I can’t rightly tell you myself; but I’ll take you to them that can. It’s somewhere, however, near old Glastonbury Tor; and they tell me that master is as cheery as ever, though, God help him, he fares no better, as this world goes, than I do. Come, I’ll take you to old Mistress Blount: right glad she’ll be to see thee again, and a sad story she’ll have to tell thee about the old gentleman. God’s blessing on his soul!—a was the poor man’s friend.”
“What! is dear old Master Blount gone?”
“Ay, it’s an awful tale. The mistress will tell you all about it.” So saying, he led the way to a wicket leading out of the churchyard at an opposite corner; but ere they reached it he stopped, observing, that second thoughts were best.
“No,” said the old man, “if I take thee to Mistress Blount it may get her into trouble, and if I take thee to my bit of a cot, it may bring thee into trouble; for my old woman is as curious as a magpie and as leaky as a sieve, and every gossip near us would soon be on the lookout and the chatter. If thou go to the Jolly Woodcutter, near the Market Cross, thou wilt find old Margery Broad the right hostess: she hath good liquor and few words, and neither meddles nor makes. Go break thy fast, and take rest, and in the evening thou canst set forward for Glastonbury. When the chimes go five, I’ll bring one shall guide thee to thy father’s.”
“Why such delay? I would go at once.”
“It will be better for your father that you should not reach Glastonbury till after dusk; besides, you have been afoot all night, and a stretch on one of Dame Margery’s pallets will do you no hurt.”