the shepherd's wife.

''Tis the nature of my trade, men and maidens. 'Tis the nature of my
trade more than my poverty . . . But really and truly I must up and off,
or I shan't get a lodging in the town.' However, the speaker did not
move, and directly added, 'There's time for one more draught of
friendship before I go; and I'd perform it at once if the mug were not
dry.'

'Here's a mug o' small,' said Mrs. Fennel. 'Small, we call it, though to
be sure 'tis only the first wash o' the combs.'

'No,' said the stranger disdainfully. 'I won't spoil your first kindness
by partaking o' your second.'

'Certainly not,' broke in Fennel. 'We don't increase and multiply every
day, and I'll fill the mug again.' He went away to the dark place under
the stairs where the barrel stood. The shepherdess followed him.

'Why should you do this?' she said reproachfully, as soon as they were
alone. 'He's emptied it once, though it held enough for ten people; and
now he's not contented wi' the small, but must needs call for more o' the
strong! And a stranger unbeknown to any of us. For my part, I don't
like the look o' the man at all.'

'But he's in the house, my honey; and 'tis a wet night, and a
christening. Daze it, what's a cup of mead more or less? There'll be
plenty more next bee-burning.'

'Very well--this time, then,' she answered, looking wistfully at the