friendly beast
enough."

"Was it so? Then I will warrant that the old witch was in a sorely
bad temper," he said, laughing again.

"What makes you think that?" I asked, not caring if he answered.

"Why, our folk say that the temper of cat and witch are ever
opposite. So when they go to ask aught of the old lady, they wait
outside till they see how the cat--which is, no doubt, her familiar
spirit--behaves. Then if the beast is wild and savage, they know
that its mistress will be in good temper and they may go in. But if
the cat is friendly, they may as well go home, else will they be
like to get harder words than they would care to hear."

Then I laughed also, and said that there seemed nought strange in
the ways of the great cat, but that it behaved as if used to being
noticed kindly.

"That is certain," said Relf. "It is not well to offend either
mistress or beast. But surely she was ill tempered?"

"There was nothing ill natured in her doing or sayings at all," I
said. "The earl angered her a little, but that passed."

"Maybe that was enough to put her familiar into a good temper,"
said Relf, and was satisfied that the common saying was true.

Then I minded a small black cat that belonged to our leech at Bures
in the old days. It would let none come near it but its master. Yet
I have many times seen it perched on the shoulder of the town
witch, and she hated the leech sorely.

So I fell to thinking of the old home and ways, soon, as I thought,
to be taken up again. But at the same time there stole into my mind
the feeling that I had grown to love this place.

Then with flap of heavy wings and croak of alarm flew up a great
heron from a marshy pool, and in a moment all was forgotten as I
unhooded my hawk--one that Olaf had given me from the Danish spoils
at Canterbury. Then the rush of the long-winged falcon, and the cry
of the heron, and the giddy climbing of both into the gray November
sky as they strove for the highest flight, was all that I cared
for, and we shook our reins and cantered after the birds as they
drifted down the wind, soaring too high to breast it.

And when the heron was taken the dark thoughts were gone, and we
rode back to Penhurst gaily, speaking no word of war or coming
trouble, but of flight of hawk and wile of quarry, and the like
pleasant things.

After this I saw no more of Earl Wulfnoth, and the winter set in
with heavy snow and frosts, so that before long one might hardly