s eyes on the boy. "God Himself once told men who was
their greatest. And who was it, countest?"

"Was it Charlemagne?" eagerly responded the unchronological Bertram.

"`Among men that are born of women, there hath not risen a greater
than--'"

"Whom?" interpolated the boy, when Wilfred paused.

"`John the Baptist.'"

Bertram's face fell with a most disappointed look.

"Why, what did he? How was he great?"

"He was great in four matters, methinks, in one whereof only thou or I
may not have leave to follow him. In that he foreran our Lord, his deed
is beyond our reach: but in three other concernments, in no wise.
Firstly, he preached Christ."

"That the priests do," interjected Bertram.

"Do they so?" asked Wilfred rather drily. "Secondly, he feared not,
when need were, to gainsay a master in whose hand lay his life. And
lastly, he knew how to deny himself."

"But, Father Wilfred! all those be easy enough."

"Be they so, lad? How many times hast tried them?"

"In good sooth, never tried I any of them," said Bertram honestly.

"Then wait ere thou say so much."

There was another pause; and then Bertram found another question.

"Father Wilfred, what thinkest of Sir John de Wycliffe?"

"I never brake bread with him, lad," said the monk, busy with the
griffin.

"But what thinkest?"

"How should I know?"

Evidently the illuminator did not mean to commit himself.

"Is he a great man or a small?"

"God wot," said the monk.

"Hugh Calverley saith he is the greatest man that ever lived," said
Bertram.

"Greater than Saint John Baptist?"

"His work is of the like sort," pursued Bertram meditatively. "'Tis
preaching and reproving men of their sins."

"God speed all His work!" said the monk.

"Father, what didst after thy turning back from Holy Land?"

"What all men do once a life. What thou wilt do."

"Marry, what so?"

"Why, I became a fool."

"Father Wilfred! I counted thee alway a wise man."

"A sorry blunder, lad," said Wilfred, putting in the griffin's teeth.

"Wouldst say a Court fool?"

"Nay--a worser fool than that."

"How so?"

"I trusted a woman," answered Wilfred,--bitterly, for him.

"Father! hadst thou ever a lady-love?"

Bertram's interest was intense at this juncture.

"Go to, Bertram Lyngern!" answered the monk, looking up with a smile.
"Be thy thoughts on lady-loves already? Nay, lad; she that I trusted
was a kinswoman--no love. Little love in very deed