"Now, that is more like a Christian," observed Aunt Olive. But Barty was meditating about something, and he was rather silent all through dinner. Besides the hot roast, they bought bread, and Barty had his new "Bartlemy knife" with which to cut his slice of the roast. A costard-monger sold them apples, and the seeds were carefully saved for planting at home. Then they must all see a show, and they crowded into a tent and saw a play acted by wooden marionettes in a toy theater, like a Punch and Judy. In the Cloth Fair the farmer bought fine Flemish cloth for the mother, dyed a beautiful blue, and red cloth for a cloak for Hilda. While Aunt Olive was helping to choose this Barty slipped across the way and looked for Vanni. He had heard Vanni tell the men that the thief's name was Conrad Waibling. Rascals were a new thing in Barty's experience. There was nobody in the village at home who would deliberately hem in a man by a crowd and then rob him. Barty was sure that the man with the performing bear was in it as well. "Vanni," he said, "you know that thief that they caught?" Vanni nodded. "Do you think that the man with the dancing bear was a friend of his?" "I know he was," said Vanni grimly. "He escaped." Barty hesitated. "What do you think they will do to the one that they caught?" "He will be punished," answered Vanni coolly. "He is a poisoner. He has sold poisoned spices--for pay. I think he failed, and did not poison anybody, so that he has had to get his living where he could. He is finished now--ended--no more." Barty felt rather cold. Vanni was so matter-of-fact about it. The Italian boy saw the look on his face. "There is nothing," he added, "so bad as betraying your salt--you understand--to live in a man's house and kill him secretly--to give him food which is death. There are places where no man can trust his neighbor. You do not know what they are like. Your father is his own man." Barty felt that he had seen a great deal in the world since he left the farm in the Danelaw. He was glad to go with his father and Aunt Olive and David into the stately quiet church. The Prior of the monastery--Rahere had long been dead--was a famous preacher, Aunt Olive said, and often preached sermons in rhyme. They went through the long airy quiet rooms of the hospital where the monks were tending sick men, or helping them out into the sun. As they came out, past the box for offerings, and each gave something, Barty left there his silver groat. "I'd rather Saint Bartlemy had it," he said. MIDSUMMER DAY IN ENGLAND A thousand years ago this England drew Into her magic circle Robin, Puck, Friar Rush, the Jester--all the wizard crew That foot it through the mazes for good luck. Flyting and frisking through the Sussex lanes They watched the Roman legions come and go, And the tall ships that once were kingly Spain's Driven like drifting snow.