“I was coming to that, brother.--We are not gabblers, reverend father. We left Damson Wood and came down to the bridge and crossed river to our own side. We said naught, remembering, ‘Talk not till you know of what you are talking.’ Two days went by, and then near Little Winching, up the Wander, down lay Brother Barnaby with a fever, and I must nurse him for a month. He, being very sick, forgot, and I being busy and concerned, nigh forgot Damson Graveyard and Saint Leofric’s Gate. Then, Brother Barnaby getting well and we walking in a fair morning to Little Winching, there meets us all the bruit!” “And still”--Brother Barnaby came in again--“we said nothing. But it burned our hearts. So said Brother Andrew, ‘We will go take this thing to Prior Matthew of Westforest.’” “And so they did, according to right inner counsel,” said the Prior. He turned in his chair. “You may go now, my sons. But on your obedience, speak as yet to none other of these things!” Brother Andrew and Brother Barnaby craved blessing, received it and vanished. There was pause, then, “If we check not Hugh,” said the Abbot, “we shall have loss and shame, being no longer the first, the pupil of the eye, to this part England!” “If they spoke,” said Montjoy, “none would believe them against the miracles. Nor do I know if I would believe. Say that one saw the robbed grave--what then? One travels not much further! I would believe, I think, the hermit.” “Then will you ride, Montjoy, to Damson Wood?” “Yes, I will go there. But my believing and yours and Gregory’s and the friars’ make not yet the people’s believing. Here is stuff for splendid quarrel with Hugh--but in the meantime go the folk in rivers, touch the relics and are healed!” “What we need,” said the Prior, and he spoke slowly and cautiously, “is counter-miracle.” “Yes, but you cannot order the Saints!” “No.” It was again the Prior who spoke and apparently in agreement. The Abbot sighed. “Well, let us to bed!--Go to Damson Wood, Montjoy, and then ride to Silver Cross.” “I will do that. I see,” said Montjoy, “the mischief that this thing does you--”