The mummers and the people were gathered round them and they saw the Churl’s face get black with vexation.
“O my misfortune, that ever I met with you,” said the Churl.
“Are you sorry for your bargain, Master?” said Gilly.
“Sorry—I’ll be sorry every day and night of my life for it,” said the Churl.
“You hear what my Master says, good people,” said Gilly.
“Aye, sure. He says he’s sorry for the bargain he made with you,” said some of the people.
“Then,” said Gilly, “strip him and put him across the bench until I cut a strip of his skin an inch wide from his neck to his heel.”
None of the people would consent to do that. “Well, I’ll tell you something that will make you consent,” said Gilly. “This man made two poor servant-boys work for him, paid them no wages, and took a strip of their skin, so that they are sick and sore to this day. Will that make you strip him and put him across the bench?”
“No,” said some of the people.
“He ordered me to come here to-night and to shout ‘Master, master, your mill is on fire,’ so that he might be able to leave without paying the mummers their dues. His mill is not on fire at all.”