It was a well-furnished table for a yeoman’s house.  There was a linen napkin for each guest, one corner of which he tucked into his throat, while the other corner lay beneath his wooden plate.  The twelve silver spoons were laid out on the smooth elm-table, and a silver salt stood before Mr. Thomas.  There was, of course, an abundance to eat and drink, even though no more than two had been expected; and John Merton himself stood hatless on the further side of the table and took the dishes from the bare-armed maids to place them before the gentlemen.  There was a jack of metheglin for each to drink, and a huge loaf of miscelin (or bread made of mingled corn) stood in the midst and beyond the salt.

They talked of this and of that and of the other, freely and easily—­of Mr. Thomas’ marriage with Mistress Westley that was to take place presently; of the new entailment of the estates made upon him by his uncle.  John Merton inquired, as was right, after Sir Thomas, and openly shook his head when he heard of his sufferings (for he and his wife were as good Catholics as any in the country); and when the room was empty for a moment of the maids, spoke of a priest who, he had been told, would say mass in Tansley next day (for it was in this way, for the most part, that such news was carried from mouth to mouth).  Then, when the maids came in again, the battle of the tithe was fought once more, and Mr. Thomas pronounced sentence for the second time.

They blessed themselves, all four of them, openly at the end, and went out at last to their horses.

“Will you ride with us, sir?” asked Anthony; “we can go your way.  Robin here has something to say to you.”

“I shall be happy if you will give me your company for a little.  I must be at Padley before dark, if I can, and must visit a couple of houses on the way.”

He called out to his two servants, who ran out from the kitchen wiping their mouths, telling them to follow at once, and the three rode off down the hill.

Then Robin told him.

He was silent for a while after he had put a question or two, biting his lower lip a little, and putting his little beard into his mouth.  Then he burst out.

“And I dare not ask you to come to me for Easter,” he said.  “God only knows where I shall be at Easter.  I shall be married, too, by then.  My father is in London now and may send for me.  My uncle is in the Fleet.  I am here now only to see what money I can raise for the fines and for the solace of my uncle.  I cannot ask you, Mr. Audrey, though God knows that I would do anything that I could.  Have you nowhere to go?  Will your father hold to what he says?”

Robin told him yes; and he added that there were four or five places he could go to.  He was not asking for help or harbourage, but advice only.

“And even of that I have none,” cried Mr. Thomas.  “I need all that I can get myself.  I am distracted, Mr. Babington, with all these troubles.”