Nicholas White smiled. "I reckoned you were in some haste to let her wit that her master wanted her," he said. "I was that. I was in a hurry to stop her tongue." "Well!" said the ironmonger after a short pause, "the Lord keep His own!" "Amen!" returned the mason. "But methinks, friend, the Lord works not many miracles to save even His own from traps whereinto they have run with their eyes open." They walked on for a few minutes in silence. "What think you," asked White, "is come of Mistress Benden?" "Would I wist!" answered Banks. "Master Hall saith he'll never let be till he find her, without he be arrest himself." "That will he, if he have not a care." "I'm not so sure," said Banks, "that those two in the White Hart could not have told us an' they would." "Good lack!--what count you then they be?" "I reckon that they be of my Lord Cardinal's men." "Have you any ground for that fantasy?" "Methought I saw the nether end of a mitre, broidered on the sleeve of the shorter man, where his cloak was caught aside upon the settle knob. Look you, I am not sure; but I'm 'feared lest it so be." "Jack, couldst thou stand the fire?" "I wis not, Nichol. Could you?" "I cast no doubt I could do all things through Christ, nor yet that without Christ I could do nothing." "It may come close, ere long," said Banks gravely. The two travellers, meanwhile, had mounted their horses, and were riding in the direction of Goudhurst. A third man followed them, leading a baggage-horse. As they went slowly along, the taller man said-- "Have you all you need, now, Malledge?" "All but one matter, Master Sumner--we know not yet where Hall dwelleth. Trust me, but I coveted your grave face, when we heard tell of Tabby horsewhipping yon Benden!" "He hath his demerits," said the sumner,--that is, the official who served the summonses to the ecclesiastical courts. "Of that I cast no doubt; nor care I if Tabby thrash him every day, for my part. When come we in our proper persons, to do our work?" "That cannot I tell. We must first make report to my Lord of Dover." A young girl and a little child came tripping down the road. The short man drew bridle and addressed them. "Pray you, my pretty maids, can you tell me where dwelleth Mistress Bradbridge? I owe her a trifle of money, and would fain pay the same." "Oh yes, sir!" said little Patience Bradbridge eagerly; "she's my mother. She dwells in yon white house over the field yonder." "And Master Roger Hall, where dwelleth he?" Penuel Pardue hastily stopped her little friend's reply. "Master Hall is not now at home, my masters, so it should be to no purpose you visit his house. I give you good-morrow." "Wise maid!" said Malledge with a laugh, when the girls were out of hearing. "If all were as close as thou, we should thrive little." "They are all in a story!" said the sumner.