might play the rogue with him, he would deal honestly by us. But we
could find no trace of him, though we visited every alehouse in the
town, and so back we go, crestfallen, to the Bell, to beg the innkeeper
to give us a night's lodging and a crust of bread on the speculation
that Ned would come back and settle our accounts; but he would not
listen to our prayers, and so, hungry and thirsty, and miserable beyond
expression, we were fain to make up with a loft over the stables, where,
thanks to a good store of sweet hay, we soon forgot our troubles in
sleep, but not before we had concerted to get away in the morning
betimes to escape another day in the stocks.

Accordingly, before the break of day, we were afoot, and after
noiselessly packing our effects in the cart in the misty grey light,
Jack Dawson goes in the stable to harness our nag, while I as silently
take down the heavy bar that fastened the yard gate. But while I was yet
fumbling at the bolts, and all of a shake for fear of being caught in
the act, Jack Dawson comes to me, with Moll holding of his hand, as she
would when our troubles were great, and says in a tone of despair:

"Give over, Kit. We are all undone again. For our harness is stole, and
there's never another I can take in its place."

While we were at this stumble, out comes our landlord to make sport of
us. "Have you found your money yet, friends?" says he, with a sneer.

"No," says Jack, savagely, "and our money is not all that we have lost,
for some villain has filched our nag's harness, and I warrant you know
who he is."

"Why, to be sure," returns the other, "the same friend may have taken it