psby walked leisurely over the
bridge, Bennet and young Shelton rode up the road together, through the
village and past the church.

"Ye will see the old shrew," said Bennet. "He will waste more time
grumbling and prating of Harry the Fift than would serve a man to shoe a
horse. And all because he has been to the French wars!"

The house to which they were bound was the last in the village, standing
alone among lilacs; and beyond it, on three sides, there was open meadow
rising towards the borders of the wood.

Hatch dismounted, threw his rein over the fence, and walked down the
field, Dick keeping close at his elbow, to where the old soldier was
digging, knee-deep in his cabbages, and now and again, in a cracked
voice, singing a snatch of song. He was all dressed in leather, only his
hood and tippet were of black frieze, and tied with scarlet; his face was
like a walnut-shell, both for colour and wrinkles; but his old grey eye
was still clear enough, and his sight unabated. Perhaps he was deaf;
perhaps he thought it unworthy of an old archer of Agincourt to pay any
heed to such disturbances; but neither the surly notes of the alarm bell,
nor the near approach of Bennet and the lad, appeared at all to move him;
and he continued obstinately digging, and piped up, very thin and shaky:

"Now, dear lady, if thy will be,
I pray you that you will rue on me."

"Nick Appleyard," said Hatch, "Sir Oliver commends him to you, and bids
that ye shall come within this hour to the Moat House, there to take
command."

The old fellow looked up.

"Save you, my masters!" he said, grinning. "And where goeth Master
Hatch?"

"Master Hatch is off to Kettley, with every man that we can horse,"
returned Bennet. "There is a fight toward, it seems, and my lord stays a
reinforcement."

"Ay, verily," returned Appleyard. "And what will ye leave me to garrison
withal?"

"I leave you six good men, and Sir Oliver to boot," answered Hatch.

"It'll not hold the place," said Appleyard; "the number sufficeth not.
It would take two score to make it good."

"Why, it's for that we came to you, old shrew!" replied the other. "Who
else is there but you that could do aught in such a house with such a
garrison?"

"Ay! when the pinch comes, ye remember the old shoe," returned Nick.
"There is not a man of you can back a horse or hold a bill; and as for
archery--St. Michael! if old Harry the Fift were back again, he would
stand and