‘“Well for your souls,” he said, wiping his brow. Next, shrill like a woman: “Oh, come to me!” and Hugh ran forward to hold Harold, that had slidden down in the chair. ‘“Hearken,” said Rahere, his arm round Harold’s neck. “The King--his bishops--the knights--all the world’s crazy chessboard neither mock nor judge thee. Take that comfort with thee, Harold of England!” ‘Hugh heaved the old man up and he smiled. ‘“Good comfort,” said Harold. “Tell me again! I have been somewhat punished.” ‘Rahere hallooed it once more into his ear as the head rolled. We heard him sigh, and Nigel of Ely stood forth, praying aloud. ‘“Out! I will have no Norman!” Harold said as clearly as I speak now, and he refuged himself on Hugh’s sound shoulder, and stretched out, and lay all still.’ ‘Dead?’ said Una, turning up a white face in the dusk. ‘That was his good fortune. To die in the King’s presence, and on the breast of the most gentlest, truest knight of his own house. Some of us envied him,’ said Sir Richard, and fell back to take Swallow’s bridle. ‘Turn left here,’ Puck called ahead of them from under an oak. They ducked down a narrow path through close ash plantation. The children hurried forward, but cutting a corner charged full-abreast into the thorn-faggot that old Hobden was carrying home on his back. ‘My! My!’ said he. ‘Have you scratted your face, Miss Una?’ ‘Sorry! It’s all right,’ said Una, rubbing her nose. ‘How many rabbits did you get today?’ ‘That’s tellin’!’ the old man grinned as he re-hoisted his faggot. ‘I reckon Mus’ Ridley he’ve got rheumatism along o’ lyin’ in the dik to see I didn’t snap up any. Think o’ that now!’ They laughed a good deal while he told them the tale. ‘An’ just as he crawled away I heard some one hollerin’ to the hounds in our woods,’ said he. ‘Didn’t you hear? You must ha’ been asleep sure-ly.’ ‘Oh, what about the sleeper you promised to show us?’ Dan cried. ‘’Ere he be--house an’ all!’ Hobden dived into the prickly heart of the faggot and took out a dormouse’s wonderfully woven nest of grass and leaves. His blunt fingers parted it as if it had been precious lace, and tilting it toward the last of the light he showed the little, red, furry chap curled up inside, his tail between his eyes that were shut for their winter sleep. ‘Let’s take him home. Don’t breathe on him,’ said Una. ‘It’ll make him warm and he’ll wake up and die straight off. Won’t he, Hobby?’ ‘Dat’s a heap better by my reckonin’ than wakin’ up and findin’ himself in a cage for life. No! We’ll lay him into the bottom o’ this hedge. Dat’s jus’ right! No more trouble for him till come Spring. An’ now we’ll go home.’ A Carol Our Lord Who did the Ox command To kneel to Judah’s King, He binds His frost upon the land To ripen it for Spring-- To ripen it for Spring, good sirs, According to His word; Which well must be as ye can see-- And who shall judge the Lord?