Tells How I Stole My Breakfast

I was yet revolving the matter in my mind when I heard a loud and merry whistling, and glancing up, beheld a country fellow approaching down a side lane. He wore a wide-eaved hat and his smock was new-washed and speckless; but that which drew and held my eyes, that which brought me to a sudden stand, was the bundle he bore wrapped in a fair, white clout. So, with my gaze on this I stood leaning on my knotted, untrimmed staff, waiting him. Suddenly, chancing to turn his head, he espied me, halted in his stride, then eyeing me askance, advanced again. A small man he was, with rosy face, little, merry eyes, and a wide, up-curving mouth.

"Goo' marnin' to 'ee--it do have been a tur'ble bad starm las' night, master!"

"Aye!" says I, and my heart warmed to him by reason of his good Kentish tongue--the like of which I had not heard these many weary years; but at sight of that white-clouted bundle my mouth watered and hunger gnawed with sharper tooth. "What have ye here?" I questioned, touching this with my staff.

"Nou't but my dinner, master, 's ever was!"

"Nay," says I scowling, "I think not!"

"Aye, but it be, master!" he nodded. "Bread and beef wi' a mossel of cheese like, 's ever was!"

"Bread!" says I. "Beef! Cheese! Liar--here is no dinner o' yours!"

"Aye, master, but it do be so, sure!" quoth he, staring. "My very own dinner cut by my very own darter, beef an' bread an' a mossel o' cheese--I take my bible oath t' it, I do--bread an' beef an' a mossel--"