back at the village, which lay below, its gray
roofs and red chimneys just distinguishable here and there, between a
foamy sea of apple-blossom and a haze of bluish smoke. He could not
very well shake its dust off his feet, for this was hardly separable
from the dust of many other places on his boots, and also it was mostly
mud. But his gesture betokened extreme malevolence.

"These Cor-rnishmen," he said, "are pigs all. There is not a
Cor-rnishman that is not a big pig."

He lifted the second leg wearily over the bar.

"As for Art--phit! Moreover, they shut up their churches."

This was really a serious matter for he had not a penny-piece in his
pocket, the last had gone to buy a loaf--and there was no lodging to be
had in the village. The month was April, a bad time to sleep in the
open; and though the night drew in tranquilly upon a day of broad
sunshine, the earth had by no means sucked in the late heavy rains.
The church-porch, however, had a broad bench on either side and faced
the south, away from the prevailing wind. He had made a mental note of
this early in the day, being schooled to anticipate such straits as the
present. As he passed up the narrow path between the graves, with a
gait like a limping hare's, he scanned his surroundings carefully.

The churchyard was narrow and surrounded by a high gray wall, mostly
hidden by an inner belt of well-grown cypresses. At one point the
ranks of these trees were broken for some forty feet, and here the back
of a small dwelling-house abutted on the cemetery. There was one
window only in the yellow-washed wall, and this window looked straight
on the church-porch. The flageolet-player regarded it with suspicion;
but the casement was shut and the blind drawn down. The aspect of the
cottage, too, proclaimed that its inhabitants were very poor folk--not
at all the sort to tell tales upon a casual tramp if they spied him
bivouacking upon holy ground.

He limped into the porch and cast off the blue bag that was strapped
upon his shoulders. Out of it he drew a sheep's-wool cape, worn very
thin, and then turned the bag inside out, on the chance of discovering
a forgotten crust. The search disappointed him, but he took it
calmly--being on the whole a sweet-tempered man and not easily angered,
except by an affront to his vanity. His violent indignation against
the people of Gantick arose from their indifference to his playing.
Had they even run out at their