"Come out o' that!" quoth he, fondling the lash of an ugly-looking whip he carried. "Who give you leave to snore in my barn? Come out of it!" "Sir," said I, rising and saluting him with a somewhat haughty bow, "I regret to have trespassed upon your property, but when I remind you of last night's dreadful storm and further inform you that I was lost, you will, I am sure--" "Come out of it--d'ye hear!" he repeated more angrily then before. "And don't try coming any o' your imperence wi' me, my lad--come, out ye go!" "Willingly!" said I disdainfully. "Permit me first to assure you that if my sheltering in this barn has caused any damage to your property, I will reimburse you to any reasonable--" "Get out--ye damned young thieving gipsy!" he roared, and cut at me fiercely with his whip; whereupon, forgetting dignity and all else in the sharp, unaccustomed pain, I took to my heels nor did I stop until I was safe beyond pursuit and out of sight of the scene of my humiliation. This incident (though I could have wept for very indignation) served but to make me the more fixed in my resolution to follow the course I had marked out for myself, come what might. My present worldly possessions amounted to some fourteen pounds and a valuable gold watch, thanks to the highwayman's gratitude; moreover I remembered Anthony's promise to meet me at Tonbridge and this cheered me greatly. To Tonbridge I would go and there await his coming. Musing thus, I was aroused by the hoof strokes of a horse and, glancing up, beheld a plump man on plump steed ambling towards me down the lane. Waiting until he was sufficiently near, I stepped into the road and saluted him. "Good-day, sir!" said I. "Pray pardon my detaining you, but this neighbourhood is strange to me. Will you therefore have the kindness to direct me to Tonbridge?" The plump man eyed me over, damned my impudence, and rode off with never another word, leaving me to stare after him mute with indignation and surprise; and so to plod on, racking my brain to discover in what particular I could have offended. I was yet busied on this perplexing problem when I espied a pleasant-faced fellow leaning over a gate; him I accosted thus: "Sir, I am a stranger hereabouts and should esteem it a kindness if you would direct me to Tonbridge." The man stared, open-mouthed, and hardly had I finished speaking than he threw back his head and laughed loudly. "Sir, why do you laugh?" I demanded, a little stiffly. "Good lad!" he grinned. "Ye be a play-actor, for sure?" "Certainly I am--not! Pray how may I get to Tonbridge?" "Why, like Gammer Perkins' old sow," he grinned, "one leg afore t' other! I bean't sich a green 'un as ye think." "Thank you for nothing!" said I sharply. "Oh, ye can't make a fule of I!" quoth he, grinning. "No," I retorted, "Nature has done so already!" This seemed to tickle him mightily for some reason.