, and making a turn, came out on the
road that led to the house.

Though my disguise was good, I fear I made but an indifferent bad
ploughboy when walking, and found a difficulty in dealing with my hands,
not knowing how ploughboys are wont to carry them. So I came round in
front of the house, and gave a rat-tat on the door, while my pulse beat
as loud inside of me as ever did the knocker without. The sound ran round
the building, and backwards among the walks, and all was silent as
before. I waited a minute, and was for knocking again, thinking there
might be no one in the house, and then heard a light footstep coming
along the corridor, yet durst not look through the window to see who it
was in passing, as I might have done, but kept myself close to the door.

The bolts were being drawn, and a girl's voice asked, 'Who is there?' I
gave a jump to hear that voice, knowing it well for Grace's, and had a
mind to shout out my name. But then I remembered there might be some in
the house with her besides, and that I must remain disguised. Moreover,
laughing is so mixed with crying in our world, and trifling things with
serious, that even in this pass I believe I was secretly pleased to have
to play a trick on her, and test whether she would find me out in this
dress or not. So I spoke out in our round Dorset speech, such as they
talk it out in the vale, saying, 'A poor boy who is out of his way.'

Then she opened one leaf of the door, and asked me whither I would go,
looking at me as one might at a stranger and not knowing who it was.

I answered that I was a farm lad who had walked from Purbeck, and sought
an inn called the Why Not? kept by one Master Block. When she heard that,
she gave a little start, and looked me over again, yet could make nothing
of it, but said:

'Good lad, if you will step on to this terrace I can show you the Why
Not? inn, but 'tis shut these two months or more, and Master Block away.'

With that she turned towards the terrace, I following, but when we
were outside of ear-shot from the door, I spoke in my own voice,
quick but low:

'Grace, it is I, John Trenchard, who am come to say goodbye before I
leave these parts, and have much to tell that you would wish to hear. Are
there any beside in the house with you?'

Now many girls who had suffered as she had, and were thus surprised,
would have screamed, or perhaps swooned, but she did neither, only
flushing a little and saying, also quick and