lamely what his heart feels."

His head was bowed over his horse's neck, his face turned to the cross,
his eyes were shut, and he did not notice the strange and grotesque
figure that suddenly appeared from among the low bushes by the fen near
by.

It was an odd creature perched upon stilts; one of those persons called
the stilt-walkers. They were no friends of the King, nor of the Earl of
Lindsey, nor of my Lord Rippingdale, for the draining of these fens took
from them their means of living. They were messengers, postmen and
carriers across the wide stretch of country from Spilsby, even down to
the river Witham, and from Boston Deep down to Market Deeping and over to
the sea. Since these fens were drained one might travel from Market
Deeping to the Wolds without wetting a foot.

"Aw'll trooble thee a moment, maister," said the peasant. "A stilt-walker
beant nowt i' the woorld. Howsome'er, aw've a worrd to speak i' thy ear."

Enderby reined in his horse, and with a nod of complaisance (for he was a
man ever kind to the poor, and patient with those who fared ill in the
world) he waited for the other to speak.

"Thoo'rt the great Enderby of Enderby, maister," said the peasant,
ducking his head and then putting on his cap; "aw've known thee sin tha
wast no bigger nor a bit grass'opper i' the field. Wilt tha ride long,
Sir John Enderby, and aw'll walk aside thee, ma grey nag with thy
sorrel." He glanced down humorously at his own long wooden legs.

Enderby turned his horse round and proceeded on his way slowly, the old