I must sing in a less thunderous key; ’tis not good to mar his sleep, with this journey before him, and he so wearied out, poor chap .

. . This garment — ’tis well enough — a stitch here and another one there will set it aright. This other is better, albeit a stitch or two will not come amiss in it, likewise . . . These be very good and sound, and will keep his small feet warm and dry — an odd new thing to him, belike, since he has doubtless been used to foot it bare, winters and summers the same . . . Would thread were bread, seeing one getteth a year’s sufficiency for a farthing, and such a brave big needle without cost, for mere love. Now shall I have the demon’s own time to thread it!”

And so he had. He did as men have always done, and