SELWICK HALL, NOVEMBER YE XII. _Mother_ bid me, this morrow, carry a basket of eggs and a spice-cake [the northern name for a plum-cake] to old _Jack_. They were ducks' eggs, for I had told her what _Jack_ said the last time we visited him. I bade _Edith_ go with me [Note 4], but she would not, the day being somewhat foul. I did never see a maid so unwilling to mire her shoes as our _Edith_. So I all alone up to _Jack Benn's_: which saw me from his hut door, and gave me his customary courteous welcome. "There's a woman a-coming!" quoth he. "Get away wi' ye! I hate women." "Nay, _Jack_," said I; "thou alway savest me, as thou wist. Here be eggs for thee--ducks', every one: and a spice-cake, which I know thou lovest." "I love nought so much as I hate women," saith he. But he took the cake and the eggs off me, notwithstanding. "They're fleshly folk, is women," quoth old _Jack_. "Nay, what signifiest?" said I. "Women have no more flesh than men, I reckon." "Mistress _Milisent_, does thou wit what _Paul_ says to th' _Romans_, touching th' flesh and th' spirit?" "Oh ay, _Jack_, I have read it afore now." "Well, and does thou mind how he threaps again' th' flesh?" "To be sure," said I. "Now look ye here," saith he. "Here's my hand,"--and he reacheth forth a great brown paw. "Does thou see it?" "Ay, I am thankful I have eyes good enough for that, _Jack_!" "Well--this hand's made o' flesh, does thou wit?" "I reckon so much, _Jack_." "Good. Well, _Paul_ he says we're none to mind th' things o' th' flesh, but only th' things o' th' spirit. Your spirit's your thoughts and meditations like. And that's why women's such ill uns--because they are alway minding th' things o' th' flesh: scrubbing, and washing, and baking, and sewing, and such like. And it stands to reason, Mistress _Milisent_, that what ye do wi' th' flesh mun be th' things o' th' flesh. Does thou see?" "Well, _Jack_, I am afeared I do not entirely." "Get thee gone!" saith he. "Women never can see nought. They're ill uns, I tell ye--they're ill uns!" "But, _Jack_, the sins of the flesh have nought to do with cooking and washing." "Does thou think I dunna know better nor a woman? Thee be off, or I'll let fly th' broom at thee." "_Jack_, thou art a very uncivil companion," said I; but I gathered up my gown for to go. "I never were civil to a woman yet," saith he, "and I hope I never shall be. That's a sin I'll none have to answer for." "In very deed it is, _Jack_," said I, "and I will bear witness for thee to that end if need be. Farewell." So away turned I from the grim old man, but had not run many steps down ere I was aware of an hand, very different from _Jack's_, held forth to me, and a voice saluting me in exceeding diverse language.