and anon a dull red flash, and presently a short
grim mutter of the coming thunder was heard. Then up rode four stout
burghers of Nottingham Town, for this was the only inn within five
miles' distance, and they did not care to be caught in such a
thunderstorm as this that was coming upon them. Leaving their nags to
the stableman, they entered the best room of the inn, where fresh green
rushes lay all spread upon the floor, and there called for the goodliest
fare that the place afforded. After having eaten heartily they bade the
landlord show them to their rooms, for they were aweary, having ridden
all the way from Dronfield that day. So off they went, grumbling at
having to sleep two in a bed, but their troubles on this score, as well
as all others, were soon lost in the quietness of sleep.

And now came the first gust of wind, rushing past the place, clapping
and banging the doors and shutters, smelling of the coming rain, and all
wrapped in a cloud of dust and leaves. As though the wind had brought a
guest along with it, the door opened of a sudden and in came a friar of
Emmet Priory, and one in high degree, as was shown by the softness and
sleekness of his robes and the richness of his rosary. He called to the
landlord, and bade him first have his mule well fed and bedded in the
stable, and then to bring him the very best there was in the house. So
presently a savory stew of tripe and onions, with sweet little fat
dumplings, was set before him, likewise a good stout pottle of Malmsey,
and straightway the holy friar fell to with great courage and
heartiness, so that in a short time nought was left but a little pool of
gravy in the center of the platter, not large enow to keep the life in a
starving mouse.

In the meantime the storm broke. Another gust of wind went rushing by,
and with it fell a few heavy drops of rain, which presently came
rattling down in showers, beating against the casements like a hundred
little hands. Bright flashes of lightning lit up every raindrop, and
with them came cracks of thunder that went away rumbling and bumping as
though Saint Swithin were busy rolling great casks of water across rough
ground overhead. The womenfolks screamed, and the merry wags in the
taproom put their arms around their waists to soothe them into
quietness.

At last the holy friar bade the landlord show him to his room; but when
he heard that he was to bed with a cobbler, he was as ill contented a
fellow as you