Walter ran down to the village at full speed. He first bent his
steps towards the "Half-Moon," the little public-house, where news
was sure to be met with. As he came towards it, however, he heard
the loud sound of a man's voice going steadily on as if with some
discourse. "Some preachment," said he to himself: "they've got a
thorough-going Roundhead, I can hear his twang through his nose!
Shall I go in or not?"

While he was asking himself this question, an old peasant in a round
frock came towards him.

"Hollo, Will!" shouted Walter, "what prick-eared rogue have you got
there?"

"Hush, hush, Master Walter!" said the old man, taking off his hat
very respectfully. "Best take care what you say, there be plenty of
red-coats about. There's one of them now preaching away in
marvellous pied words. It is downright shocking to hear the Bible
hollaed out after that sort, so I came away. Don't you go nigh him,
sir, 'specially with your hat set on in that--"

"Never mind my hat," said Walter, impatiently, "it is no business of
yours, and I'll wear it as I please in spite of old Noll and all his
crew."

For his forefathers' sake, and for the love of his mother and sister,
the good village people bore with Walter's haughtiness and
discourtesy far more than was good for him, and the old man did not
show how much he was hurt by his rough reception of his good advice.
Walter was not reminded that he ought to rise up before the hoary