pipe outside his cottage door, and he had a red-spotted
handkerchief over his head because of the flies. There were flies
then, just the same as there are now, though it was a hundred years ago
by the church clock.

'I wasn't thinking of my grandmother,' said Diggory; 'I was thinking of
my Uncle Diggory. He was the third son of a woodcutter, just like I am,
and he saw right enough that that's the sort that _has_ to go out and
seek its fortune. And I'm getting on, father; I shall be twenty before
you know where you are.'

'You'll have to be twenty and more before I agree not to know where
_you_ are,' said his father. 'Your Uncle Diggory did well for himself,
sure enough, and many a turkey and chine he's sent us at
Christmas-time; but he started a-horseback, he did. He got the horse
from _his_ Uncle Diggory, and he was a rover too. Now, if you went,
you'd have to go on Shank's mare, and them that go a-foot comes back
a-foot.'

'Will you let me go, then, if I can get a horse?' said Diggory
coaxingly. 'Do say yes, dad, and then I won't say another word about it
till I've got the horse.'

'Drat the lad--_yes_, then!' shouted the father.

Diggory jumped up from the porch seat.

'Then farewell home and hey for the road,' cried he, 'for I've got the
horse, dad. My Uncle Diggory sent it to me this very day, and it's tied
up behind the lodge; white it is, and a red saddle and bridle fit for a
King.'

The woodcutter grumbled, but he was a woodcutter of honour, and having
said 'Yes,' he had to stick to yes.

So Diggory rode off on the white horse with the scarlet saddle, and all
the village turned out to see him go. He had on his best white smock,
and he had never felt so fine in all his days.

So he rode away. When he came to the round mound windmill he stopped,
for there was Joyce taking in the clean clothes from the hedge, because
it was Monday evening.

He told her where he was going.

'You might take me with you,' she said. 'I'm not so very heavy but what
we could both ride on that great big horse of yours.' And she held up a
face as sweet as a bunch of flowers.

But Diggory said, 'No, my dear. Why, you little silly, girls can't go to
seek their fortunes. You'd only be in my way! Wish me luck, child.'

So he rode on, and she folded up the linen all crooked, and damped it
down with her tears, so that it was quite ready for ironing.

Diggory rode on, and on, and on. He rode through dewy evening, and
through th