saunter away to
the mud-flats and--that would be the end of them, poor souls, unless one
headed them off. One had to run quick, but one can't allow people to
lay hands on themselves because they happen to feel grey.
Yes--yess--Extraordinary people, the South Saxons. Disheartening,
sometimes.... What does that say now?' The organ had changed tune again.

'Only a hymn for next Sunday,' said Una. '"The Church's One Foundation."
Go on, please, about running over the mud. I should like to have seen
you.'

'I dare say you would, and I really could run in those days. Ethelwalch
the King gave me some five or six muddy parishes by the sea, and the
first time my good Eddi and I rode there we saw a man slouching
along the slob, among the seals at Manhood End. My good Eddi disliked
seals--but he swallowed his objections and ran like a hare.'

'Why?'said Dan.

'For the same reason that I did. We thought it was one of our people
going to drown himself. As a matter of fact, Eddi and I were nearly
drowned in the pools before we overtook him. To cut a long story short,
we found ourselves very muddy, very breathless, being quietly made fun
of in good Latin by a very well-spoken person. No--he'd no idea of
going to Wotan. He was fishing on his own beaches, and he showed us the
beacons and turf-heaps that divided his land from the church property.
He took us to his own house, gave us a good dinner, some more than good
wine, sent a guide with us into Chichester, and became one of my best
and most refreshing friends. He was a Meon by descent, from the west
edge of the kingdom; a scholar educated, curiously enough, at Lyons,
my old school; had travelled the world over, even to Rome, and was a
brilliant talker. We found we had scores of acquaintances in common. It
seemed he was a small chief under King Ethelwalch, and I fancy the King
was somewhat afraid of him. The South Saxons mistrust a man who talks
too well. Ah! Now, I've left out the very point of my story. He kept a
great grey-muzzled old dog-seal that he had brought up from a pup. He
called it Padda--after one of my clergy. It was rather like fat, honest
old Padda. The creature followed him everywhere, and nearly knocked down
my good Eddi when we first met him. Eddi loathed it. It used to sniff at
his thin legs and cough at him. I can't say I ever took much notice
of it (I was not fond of animals), till one day Eddi came to me with
a circumstantial account of some witchcraft that M