."

So the change was made, and they went forward as briskly as they durst
on the uneven causeway, Dick with his hand upon the other's knee.

"How call ye your name?" asked Dick.

"Call me John Matcham," replied the lad.

"And what make ye to Holywood?" Dick continued.

"I seek sanctuary from a man that would oppress me," was the answer.
"The good Abbot of Holywood is a strong pillar to the weak."

"And how came ye with Sir Daniel, Master Matcham?" pursued Dick.

"Nay," cried the other, "by the abuse of force! He hath taken me by
violence from my own place; dressed me in these weeds; ridden with me
till my heart was sick; gibed me till I could 'a' wept; and when certain
of my friends pursued, thinking to have me back, claps me in the rear
to stand their shot! I was even grazed in the right foot, and walk but
lamely. Nay, there shall come a day between us; he shall smart for all!"

"Would ye shoot at the moon with a hand-gun?" said Dick. "'Tis a valiant
knight, and hath a hand of iron. An he guessed I had made or meddled
with your flight, it would go sore with me."

"Ay, poor boy," returned the other, "y' are his ward, I know it. By the
same token, so am I, or so he saith; or else he hath bought my
marriage--I wot not rightly which; but it is some handle to oppress me
by."

"Boy again!" said Dick.

"Nay, then, shall I call you girl, good Richard?" asked Matcham.

"Never a girl for me," returned Dick. "I do abjure the crew of them!"

"Ye speak boyishly," said the other. "Ye think more of them than ye
pretend."

"Not I," said Dick stoutly. "They come not in my mind. A plague of them,
say I! Give me to hunt and to fight and to feast, and to live with jolly
foresters. I never heard of a maid yet that was for any service, save
one only; and she, poor shrew, was burned for a witch and the wearing of
men's clothes in spite of nature."

Master Matcham crossed himself with fervour, and appeared to pray.

"What make ye?" Dick inquired.

"I pray for her spirit," answered the other, with a somewhat troubled
voice.

"For a witch's spirit?" Dick cried. "But pray for her and ye list; she
was the best wench in Europe, was this Joan of Arc. Old Appleyard the
archer ran from her, he said, as if she had been Mahoun. Nay, she was a
brave wench."

"Well, but, good Master Richard," resumed Matcham, "an ye like maids so
little, y' are no true natural man; for God made them twain by
intention, and brought true love into