uld then have been prouder to ride in his
company. And Mrs. Golding praising him to us, and saying how good he
was, and wise beyond his years, I thought it was pity such good people
as he and she did not go handsomer; so little I knew of what belonged to
goodness.

CHAPTER II.

HOW WE JOURNEYED UP TO YORKSHIRE; AND HOW WE WERE WELCOMED THERE.

Though I remember so plainly what passed on our last day in Milthorpe
Manor-house, I am not very clear about our journey up to Yorkshire,
which was tedious enough. We kept to the king's highway, and yet were
sometimes put in much fear of thieves, but happily we fell in with none;
the only notable thing that befell us was in leaving a little market
town, I cannot call to mind its name, where we had stopped to dine. We
had ridden but a little way forth of the town when we heard a great din
of shouting and hooting behind us, which made us women afraid; and
presently a noisy rabblement of people came running up. They were
chiefly of the baser sort, both men and women, some very ragged, and
some red-faced and half tipsy; one or two gentlemen in laced coats rode
among them. I thought at first they had some spite at us, but it proved
not so. We drew to the wayside to let them pass, and they went by, very
disorderly, yelling and swearing, the women not less than the men,
pushing and hauling some poor creature dragged along in their midst. I
looked earnestly to see who it might be, and presently discerned the
person--a tall thin man, in a kind of loose garment girded about him,
and I think it was made of some hempen stuff, a kind of sacking. This
man was very pale, with longish dark hair hanging about his face, which,
as I say, was pale indeed, but not dismayed; I think he even smiled when
one struck him on the head, and another, pushing him, bade him, with a
curse, go faster. I saw the blood trickling a little from the blow that
had alighted on his head, as they hurried him past.

Andrew, who saw all this as well as I did, looked full of horror. He
caught one of the hindmost of the rabble by the sleeve and asked him
harshly, 'What has this man done, and whither are you taking him?' At
which the man, turning towards us his red, jovial face, replies,--

'It's a mad Quaker, that took upon him this noon to stand up in our
market-place, it being market day and every one mighty busy, and he
tells us all to our face we were a set of cheating rogues, that he had
marked our doings and