"Yes, Hubert of Hastings, I am that knave himself. And now tell me, what
did you do with the gold piece I gave you some twelve summers gone?"

Then I was minded to lie, for I feared this old man. But thinking better
of it, I answered that I had spent it on a dog. He laughed outright and
said:

"Pray that it is not an omen and that you may not follow the gold
piece to the dogs. Well, I like you for speaking the truth when you
are tempted to do otherwise. Will you be pleased to shelter for a while
beneath the roof of John Grimmer, the merchant knave?"

"You mock me, sir," I stammered.

"Perhaps, perhaps! But there's many a true word spoken in jest; for
if you do not know it now you will learn it afterwards that we are all
knaves, each in his own fashion, who if we do not deceive others,
at least deceive ourselves, and I perhaps more than most. Vanity of
vanities! All is vanity."

Then, waiting for no reply, he drew a silver whistle from under his
dusty robe and blew it, whereon--so swiftly that I marvelled whether he
were waiting--a stout-built serving man appeared to whom he said:

"Take these horses to the stable and treat them as though they were my
own. Unload the pack beast, and when it has been cleaned, set the mail
and the other gear upon it in the room that has been made ready for this
young master, Hubert of Hastings, my nephew."