He rose to go.

"I wish I could come and break stones," he said, a little
wistfully.

"Nay," said I, "few men have such weary roadmending as yours, and
perhaps you need my road less than most men, and less than most
parsons."

We shook hands, and he went down the road and out of my life.

He little guessed that I knew Sherwood, ay, and knew him too, for
had not Sherwood told me of the man he delighted to honour.

Ah, well! I am no Browning Junior, and Sherwood's name is not
Sherwood.



CHAPTER VI



A while ago I took a holiday; mouched, played truant from my road.
Jem the waggoner hailed me as he passed--he was going to the mill--
would I ride with him and come back atop of the full sacks?

I hid my hammer in the hedge, climbed into the great waggon white
and fragrant with the clean sweet meal, and flung myself down on