lay last night at a neighbouring town--to
execute the behests of royalty.

"What ho!" cried the upper half, and on Eli emerging, with his wife
behind him, saluted them. "Peace be with you, good people. Rejoice! I am
come for your dwarf."

Eli looked amazed, and said nothing. But Catherine screamed over his
shoulder, "You have mistook your road, good man; here abides no dwarf."

"Nay, wife, he means our Giles, who is somewhat small of stature: why
gainsay what gainsayed may not be?"

"Ay!" cried the pageant, "that is he, and discourseth like the big
taber.

"His breast is sound for that matter," said Catherine sharply.

"And prompt with his fists though at long odds."

"Else how would the poor thing keep his head in such a world as this?"

"'Tis well said, dame. Art as ready with thy weapon as he; art his
mother, likely. So bring him forth, and that presently. See, they lead a
stunted mule for him. The Duke hath need of him, sore need; we are clean
out o' dwarven, and tiger-cats, which may not be, whiles earth them
yieldeth. Our last hop o' my thumb tumbled down the well t'other day."

"And think you I'll let my darling go to such an ill-guided house as
you, where the reckless trollops of servants close not the well mouth,
but leave it open to trap innocents, like wolven?"

The representative of autocracy lost patience at this unwonted
opposition, and with stern look and voice bade her bethink her whether
it was the better of the two; "to have your abortion at court fed like a
bishop and put on like a prince, or to have all your heads stricken off
and borne on poles, with the bellman crying, 'Behold the heads of hardy
rebels, which having by good luck a misbegotten son, did traitorously
grudge him to the Duke, who is the true father of all his folk, little
or mickle?'

"Nay," said Eli sadly, "miscall us not. We be true folk, and neither
rebels nor traitors. But 'tis sudden, and the poor lad is our true flesh
and blood, and hath of late given proof of more sense than heretofore."

"Avails not threatening our lives," whimpered Catherine; "we grudge him
not to the Duke; but in sooth he cannot go; his linen is all in holes.
So there is an end."

But the male mind resisted this crusher.

"Think you the Duke will not find linen, and cloth of gold to boot? None
so brave, none so affected, at court, as our monsters, big or wee."

How long the dispute might have lasted, before the iron arguments of
despotism ach