apacious pocket.

"My sight is sharp enough for so much," returned Mr Tremayne
good-naturedly.

"Well, and I tell you," said the stranger, poising the open Bible
between his hands, "there is no such word as toleration betwixt the two
backs of this book!"

The two backs of the book were brought together, by way of emphasising
the assertion, with a bang which might almost have been heard to the
parsonage.

"There is no such _word_, I grant you."

"No, Sir!--and there is no such thing."

"That hangeth, I take it, on what the word is held to signify."

"Shall I tell you what it signifieth?"

"Pray you, so do."

"Faint-heartedness, Sir!--weakness--recreancy--cowardliness--shamedness
of the truth!"

"An ill-sounding list of names," said Mr Tremayne quietly. "And one of
none whereof I would by my good-will be guilty.--Pray you, whom have I
the honour to discourse withal?"

"A very pestilent heretic, that Queen Mary should have burned, and
forgat."

"She did not that with many," was the significant answer.

"She did rare like to it with a lad that I knew in King Edward's days,
whose name was Robin Tremayne."

"Master Underhill, my dear old friend!" cried the Rector, grasping his
visitor's hand warmly. "I began these two minutes back to think I
should know those brown eyes, but I might not set a name thereto all at
once."

"Ha! the `pestilent heretic' helped thee to it, I reckon!" replied the
guest laughing. "Ay, Robin, this is he thou knewest of old time. We
will fight out our duello another time, lad. I am rare glad to see thee
so well-looking."

"From what star dropped you, Master Underhill? or what fair wind blew
you hither?"

"I am dropped out of Warwickshire, lad, if that be a star; and I came
hither of a galloway's back (but if he were the wind, 'twas on the
stillest night of the year!) And how goes it with Mrs Thekla? I saw
her last in her bride's gear."

"She will be rarely glad to see you, old friend; and so, I warrant you,
will our mother, Mistress Rose. Will you take the pain to go with me to
mine house?--where I will ensure you of a good bed and a rare welcome."

"Wilt thou ensure me of twain, lad?" asked the old man, with a comic
twinkle in his eyes.

"Twain! What, which of all my small ancient friends be with you?--Ay,
and that as hearty as to yourself.--Is it Hal or Ned?"

"Thou art an ill guesser, Robin: 'tis neither Ned nor Hal. Thy _small_
friends, old lad, be every man