ll shook t'pieces and I do be parched wi'
thirst."

"Why then, up with you!" says I, and giving him my hand, aided him back
to the driving-seat. Being there, he sighed, groaned and cast a
yearning eye towards his wallet.

"Parched wi' thirst I be!" he groaned.

"I've been the like ere now!" says I, and having gulped down what
remained of the fellow's beer I tossed the jar into the road, whereat
he beat his breast.

"My beer!" he wailed, "And I a-famishing wi' thirst! O my beer!"

"There's sweet water i' the brook yonder!" says I.

"You be a chap wi' no bowels, for sure!" he cried. "Aye, a hard man
you be!"

"'Tis a hard world," says I, "but 'tis no matter for that, tell me of
Sir Richard Brandon."

"Why then, you must know I am Myles Trueman--"

"And truly, man, there be miles of you, but 'tis no matter for that
either--what of Sir Richard?"

"I do be coming to he," says Trueman in surly tone. "I do farm Sir
Richard's land--a hard man, see you, though just."

"So--here's another hard man."

"Though a just--aye, and a godly! He hath restored our church
weathercock an' all an' set up a fine, large and fair pillory on the
green. Lunnon couldn't show a finer, wi' stocks an' cucking-stool
complete and rare to fancy--"

"And findeth he the wherewithal to fill 'em?"

"That doth he! Aha, there be never a vagrant, gipsy nor beggar dare
come anigh in Sir Richard's time. And witches be few hereabouts since
old Mother Mottridge was ducked, and scolds and shrews be fewer by
reason o' the brank, d'ye see?"

"Hum!" says I, "a right proper gentleman this!"

"Aye," quoth Trueman, nodding until his fat cheeks quivered, "and one
that doth abhor vagrants and such-like vermin--"

"As myself?" says I. To this Trueman answered nothing, but fell
a-fanning himself with his hat again, eyeing me warily the while.

"Art strange in these parts?" he questioned.

"Aye and no!"

"Hast met Sir Richard?"

"I have!"

"Aha!" quoth the fellow, nodding. "He had ye whipped, belike?"

"He did so."

"For stealing of a fine, fat capon, belike?"

"Nay, 'twas for another matter. But what of him, is he hale o' body,
rich and well esteemed, is he strong in friends and a power at court
yet?"

"No," says Trueman, flicking his plodding horses. "Neither one nor
t'other!"

"How--not?" quoth I. "And wherefore?"

"Because he's dead--"

"Dead!" says I, starting up. "Dead?"

"Why look'ee, if he ain't dead--leastways--