back, poor
shrew, and no more lacketh; and if his chattels came to a good friend, he
would be merrier, methinks, in heaven."

"Come, Hatch," said Dick, "respect his stone-blind eyes. Would ye rob
the man before his body? Nay, he would walk!"

Hatch made several signs of the cross; but by this time his natural
complexion had returned, and he was not easily to be dashed from any
purpose. It would have gone hard with the chest had not the gate
sounded, and presently after the door of the house opened and admitted a
tall, portly, ruddy, black-eyed man of near fifty, in a surplice and
black robe.

"Appleyard"--the newcomer was saying, as he entered; but he stopped dead.
"Ave Maria!" he cried. "Saints be our shield! What cheer is this?"

"Cold cheer with Appleyard, sir parson," answered Hatch, with perfect
cheerfulness. "Shot at his own door, and alighteth even now at purgatory
gates. Ay! there, if tales be true, he shall lack neither coal nor
candle."

Sir Oliver groped his way to a joint-stool, and sat down upon it, sick
and white.

"This is a judgment! O, a great stroke!" he sobbed, and rattled off a
leash of prayers.

Hatch meanwhile reverently doffed his salet and knelt down.

"Ay, Bennet," said the priest, somewhat recovering, "and what may this
be? What enemy hath done this?"

"Here, Sir Oliver, is the arrow. See, it is written upon with words,"
said Dick.

"Nay," cried the priest, "this is a foul hearing! John Amend-All! A
right Lollardy word. And black of hue, as for an omen! Sirs, this knave
arrow likes me not. But it importeth rather to take counsel. Who should
this be? Bethink you, Bennet. Of so many black ill-willers, which
should he be that doth so hardily outface us? Simnel? I do much
question it. The Walsinghams? Nay, they are not yet so broken; they
still think to have the law over us, when times change. There was Simon
Malmesbury, too. How think ye, Bennet?"

"What think ye, sir," returned Hatch, "of Ellis Duckworth?"

"Nay, Bennet, never. Nay, not he," said the priest. "There cometh never
any rising, Bennet, from below--so all judicious chroniclers concord in
their opinion; but rebellion travelleth ever downward from above; and
when Dick, Tom, and Harry take them to their bills, look ever narrowly to
see what lord is profited thereby. Now, Sir Daniel, having once more
joined him to the Queen's party, is in ill odour with the Yorkist lords.
Thence, Bennet, comes the