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The greensward was surrounded by small huts and hovels; a little old stone church on one side, and a hostel near it, shadowed by a single tall elm, beneath which was the very centre of the village wake. Not only was it Midlent, but the day was the feast of a local saint, in whose honour Lenten requirements were relaxed.
''Tis Midlent week, you pagan, replied Sir James. 'These good folk have come a-mothering, and a share of their simnels we'll have. 'Sir, entreated the squire, 'were it not more prudent of you to tarry without, and let me fetch provisions? 'Hoot, man, a throng is our best friend! Besides, the horses must rest.
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