host, "that he will grow up as straight and
as stalwart as yourself." The child, who was about three years old,
was indeed an exceedingly fine little fellow, as he sat, in one scanty
garment, in his mother's lap, gazing with round eyes at the blazing
fire; and the smith thought how pretty a picture the child and mother
made. She was a fair, gentle-looking girl some two-and-twenty years old,
and it was easy enough to see now from her delicate features and soft
shapely hands that she had never been accustomed to toil.

"And now," the smith said, "I will e'en say good night. The hour is
late, and I shall be having the watch coming along to know why I keep a
fire so long after the curfew. Should you be a stranger in the city,
I will gladly act as your guide in the morning to the friends whom
you seek, that is, should they be known to me; but if not, we shall
doubtless find them without difficulty."

So saying, the smith retired to his bed of rushes in the smithy, and
soon afterwards the tired visitor, with her baby, lay down on the rushes
in front of the fire, for in those days none of the working or artisan
class used beds, which were not indeed, for centuries afterwards, in
usage by the common people.

In the morning Geoffrey Ward found that his guest desired to find one
Giles Fletcher, a maker of bows.

"I know him well," the smith said. "There are many who do a larger
business, and hold their heads higher; but Giles Fletcher is well
esteemed as a good workman, whose wares can be depended upon. It is
often said of him that did he take less pains he would thrive more; but
he handles each bow that he makes as if he loved it, and finishes and
polishes each with his own hand. Therefore he doeth not so much trade as
those who are less particular with their wares, for he hath to charge
a high price to be able to live. But none who have ever bought his bows
have regretted the silver which they cost. Many and many a gross of
arrowheads have I sold him, and he is well-nigh as particular in
their make as he is over the spring and temper of his own bows. Many a
friendly wrangle have I had with him over their weight and finish, and
it is not many who find fault with my handiwork, though I say it myself;
and now, madam, I am at your service."

During the night the wayfarer's clothes had been dried. The cloak was of
rough quality, such as might have been used by a peasant woman; but the
rest, though of sombre colour, were of good