was nailed down stopped him from
returning homewards.

Anon he came upon Busy and Toogood painfully trudging in the mire, and
singing lustily to keep themselves cheerful and warm.

Sir Marmaduke drew the mare in, so as to keep pace with his men. On the
whole, the road had been more lonely than he liked and he was glad of
company.

Outside the Lamberts' cottage a small crowd had collected. From the
crest of the hill the tiny bell of Acol church struck the hour of two.

Squire Boatfield had ridden over from Sarre, and Sir Marmaduke--as he
dismounted--caught sight of the heels and crupper of the squire's
well-known cob. The little crowd had gathered in the immediate
neighborhood of the forge, and de Chavasse, from where he now stood,
could not see the entrance of the lean-to, only the blank side wall of
the shed, and the front of the Lamberts' cottage, the doors and windows
of which were hermetically closed.

Up against the angle formed by the wall of the forge and that of the
cottage, the enterprising landlord of the local inn had erected a small
trestle table, from behind which he was dispensing spiced ale, and
bottled Spanish wines.

Squire Boatfield was standing beside that improvised bar, and at sight
of Sir Marmaduke he put down the pewter mug which he was in the act of
conveying to his lips, and came forward to greet his friend.

"What is the pother about this foreigner, eh, Boatfield?" queried de
Chavasse with gruff good-nature as he shook hands with the squire and
allowed himself to be led towards that tempting array of bottles and
mugs on the trestle table.

The yokels who were assembled at the entrance of the forge turned to
gaze with some curiosity at the squire of Acol. De Chavasse was not
often seen even in this village: he seldom went beyond the boundary of
his own park.

All the men touched their forelocks with deferential respect. Master
Jeremy Mounce humbly whispered a query as to what His Honor would
condescend to take.

Sir Marmaduke desired a mug of buttered ale or of lamb's wool, which
Master Mounce soon held ready for him. He emptied the mug at one
draught. The spiced liquor went coursing through his body, and he felt
better and more sure of himself. He desired a second mug.

"With more substance in it, Master Landlord," he said pleasantly. "Nay,
man! ye are not giving milk to children, but something warm to cheer a
man's inside."

"I have a half bottle of brandy here, good Sir Marma