"If he preach against extortioners and usurers only, I am with him," Dick Taverner said. "If he rid London of Sir Giles Mompesson and his peers he will do good service--still better, if he will put down corruption and injustice as exhibited in the Court of Star-Chamber--eh, Master Jocelyn Mounchensey?" At the mention of this name the Puritan appeared greatly surprised, and looked round inquiringly, till his eye alighted upon the young man. After regarding him for a moment fixedly, he demanded--"Art thou Jocelyn Mounchensey?" The young man, equally surprised, replied in the affirmative. "The son of Sir Ferdinando Mounchensey, of Massingham, in Norfolk?" inquired the Puritan. "The same," Jocelyn answered. "Thy father was my nearest and dearest friend, young man," Hugh Calveley said; "and thy father's son shall be welcome to my dwelling. Enter, I pray of you. Yet pause for a moment. I have a word more to declare to these people. Ye heed not my words, and make a mock of me," he continued, addressing the assemblage: "but I will give you a sign that I have spoken the truth." "He will bring the devil among us, I trow," cried Dick Taverner. "'Tis to be hoped he will not split the May-pole with a thunderbolt," said the miller. "Nor spoil our Whitsun-ales," cried old Greenford. "Nor lame our Hobby-horse," said one of the mummers. "Nor rob me of my wreath and garlands," said Gillian. "That he shall not, I promise you, fair May Queen!" Dick Tavernor rejoined, gallantly. "I will do none of these things. I would not harm you, even if I had the power," the Puritan said. "But I will discharge a bolt against the head of yon idol," he added, pointing towards the flower-crowned summit of the May-pole; "and if I break its neck and cast it down, ye will own that a higher hand than mine directs the blow, and that the superstitious symbol ought not to be left standing." "As to what we may do, or what we may acknowledge, we will give no promise, Master Hugh Calveley," rejoined old Greenford. "But e'en let fly thy bolt, if thou wilt." Some dissent was offered to this singular proposition, but the majority of voices overruled it; and withdrawing for a moment, Hugh Calveley returned with an arbalist, which he proceeded deliberately to arm in view of the crowd, and then placed a quarrel within it. "In the name of the Lord, who cast down the golden idol made by Aaron and the Israelites, I launch this bolt," he cried, as he took aim, and liberated the cord. The short, iron-headed, square-pointed arrow whizzed through the air, and, by the mischief it did as it hit its mark, seemed to confirm the Puritan's denunciation. Striking the May-pole precisely at the summit, it shattered the wood, and brought down the floral crown surmounting it, as well as the topmost streamers. The spectators stared aghast. "Be warned by this," thundered Hugh Calveley, with gloomy triumph. "Your idol is smitten--not by my hand, but by His who will chastise your wickedness."