He led the way back to the sun-dial. They had been gone not more than twenty minutes. Frowning, Master Ronald turned his back toward the dial and leant against it. “We may as well stop here,” said he, “and wait for the minutes to speed.”
Abigail pushed away the vines to read the motto printed on the dial. “‘I marke the Time; saye, gossip, dost thou soe,’” she read unconsciously aloud.
“Time,” echoed Master Ronald, catching the word, “time.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What is more perverse than time? It takes all my philosophy to bear with it, and I oft wonder why ’twas e’er put in the world. ’Tis like a wind that blows first hot then cold. It must needs stand still when you most wish it to speed, and when you would fain have it stand still, it goes at a gallop.” He sighed profoundly and kicked a pebble with the toe of his shoe.
His expression was so miserable that Abigail’s ready tears flowed again in sympathy, so that she was obliged to pick up the hem of her petticoat and wipe them away. Her attention was suddenly attracted by noisy singing and much merriment. She dropped her petticoat. “Happen like there be a dancing-bear in town?” she asked eagerly.
“Nay,” answered Master Ronald, “’tis some of my fellows at the tavern, who have been suspended a day for riotous conduct.”
“Come, come,” cried he, taking her almost fiercely by the hand. There was a new ring in his voice, a sudden strong resolve shining in his face. He led her along the road in the direction from which the sounds proceeded, and paused at last in front of a tavern which had as a sign a head of lettuce painted in red. From this place came the singing.
Master Ronald, still holding her hand, swung the door open and stepped inside with her. As her eyes became accustomed to the dim light she perceived some eight or ten young fellows with lank locks falling about their faces, seated around a large bowl of hasty pudding, into which bowl they dipped their spoons. Two or three who were perched on the table, however, had ceased eating, and were smoking long brier-wood pipes. They did not perceive Master Ronald and Abigail. Suddenly they all lifted high their mugs of sack and broke into song.
“Where the red lettuce doth shine,
’Tis an outward sign,