Abbot. Brother Samuel was a gnarled and stringy old monk whose
stern and sharp-featured face reflected no light from above but
only that sordid workaday world toward which it was forever
turned. A huge book of accounts was tucked under one of his arms,
while a great bunch of keys hung from the other hand, a badge of
his office, and also on occasion of impatience a weapon of
offense, as many a scarred head among rustics and lay brothers
could testify.

The Abbot sighed wearily, for he suffered much at the hands of his
strenuous agent. "Well, Brother Samuel, what is your will?" he
asked.

"Holy father, I have to report that I have sold the wool to Master
Baldwin of Winchester at two shillings a bale more than it fetched
last year, for the murrain among the sheep has raised the price."

"You have done well, brother."

"I have also to tell you that I have distrained Wat the warrener
from his cottage, for his Christmas rent is still unpaid, nor the
hen-rents of last year."

"He has a wife and four children, brother." He was a good, easy
man, the Abbot, though liable to be overborne by his sterner
subordinate.

"It is true, holy father; but if I should pass him, then how am I
to ask the rent of the foresters of Puttenham, or the hinds in the
village? Such a thing spreads from house to house, and where then