"Is not our Kate afflicted? and is she not the most content of
us all, and singeth like a merle at times between her pains? But I am
as bad as thou; prithee read on, lass, and stop our gabble wi' somewhat
worth the hearkening."
"'Then,' said I, 'may this thing be?' And I took myself to task.
'Gerard, son of Eli, dost thou well to bemoan thy lot, thou hast youth
and health; and here comes the wreck of nature on crutches, praising
God's goodness with singing like a mavis?'"
Catherine. "There you see."
Eli. "Whisht, dame, whisht!"
"And whenever he saw me, he left carolling and presently hobbled up and
chanted, 'Charity, for love of Heaven, sweet master, charity,' with
a whine as piteous as wind at keyhole. 'Alack, poor soul,' said I,
'charity is in my heart, but not my purse; I am poor as thou.' Then he
believed me none, and to melt me undid his sleeve, and showed a sore
wound on his arm, and said he, 'Poor cripple though I be, I am like to
lose this eye to boot, look else.' I saw and groaned for him, and to
excuse myself let him wot how I had been robbed of my last copper.
Thereat he left whining all in a moment, and said, in a big manly voice,
'Then I'll e'en take a rest. Here, youngster, pull thou this strap: nay,
fear not!' I pulled, and down came a stout pair of legs out of his back;
and half his hump had melted away, and the wound in his eye no deeper
than the bandage.
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