Jack begged his father to send him some of his books. This the old man at first flatly refused to do, saying that if Jack had his books he would spend his time poring over them and would soon be as bad as ever again; but upon farther entreaty, and on Jack's representation that he should have to be out of doors with the sheep all day, at any rate, and that he should forget all he had learned, his father so far gave way as to say he would consult Sir William about the matter, and if he thought best, the books should be sent; and with this promise Jack was fain to be content. Presently they met and passed a man mounted on a serviceable riding hack, and followed by a mule loaded, as it seemed, with merchandise. The traveller was dressed like a merchant, and Jack did not fail to notice that he held a small book in his hand, which at their approach, he put into his pocket. "There's a man after your own heart, son Jack," said the baker. "He reads as he travels along the highway. Good-day to you, sir!" he added, addressing the traveller as they came within speaking distance. "Methinks your horse must be a steady one, since he allows you to study upon his back." The stranger smiled and bowed courteously. "My horse and I are old companions and well acquainted," he replied. "Nevertheless, I do not often make a reading chair of my saddle. I did but refresh my memory as to a passage on which my mind was running. May I crave to know if this is the road to Holford and the house of Sir John Brydges?" "You are just in the road," said Jack, "but the knight is not at home. He went up to London the day before yesterday." A shade of disappointment passed over the stranger's grave face. "Then we have passed each other on the road. I am very sorry, for my business is somewhat pressing. Do you know, my young sir, how long he will be gone?" "About a month, I heard them say at the Hall." "Well, I must needs go on my way, nevertheless," said the stranger. "Doubtless there is some house of entertainment in the village where I can abide for the night." "There is indeed, sir, and a very decent place, too, the Appletree Inn kept by Widow Higgins. But if you go up to the Hall they will care for you hospitably," said Jack. "They turn no one away, gentle or simple, who comes before eight of the clock. Men say the knight's house is as open as his heart and hand." "Jack, Jack, how your tongue runs!" said his father. "I pray you pardon the lad's forwardness," he added, addressing the stranger. "The knight hath been kind enough to notice him, and he is one who thinks much of a small favor." "'Tis a small defect if it be one at all," replied the stranger kindly. "And I am not disposed to find fault with the tongue which runs only with good words. Good-day to you, sir, and the peace of God go with you!"