The Coming of the King. Hocking Joseph

which he worked in such a way that I imagined he thought I meant to attack him.

      "You be young for your work, young master," he said, eyeing me grimly.

      "Why?" I asked pleasantly.

      "Otherwise you would never come to a working man who has not a groat in his pouch," he replied.

      "Why, you think I am a footpad?" I asked.

      "Else why should you gallop across hedges and ditches as though the devil were behind you? Eh, young man, give it up. It only ends in the gallows, and it must be a fearful life to live, always seeing the rope's end dangling before your eyes."

      "Instead of wanting to take your groats from you, my man, I will e'en give you one instead. Nay, believe me, I am peaceably inclined, and instead of being a highwayman I am making inquiries about an old house which I am told is empty, and which may perchance be for sale."

      Again he looked at me, and then touched his hat respectfully.

      "You be from London, young master?"

      "I left London less than a week ago," I replied. "I have come in search of a house, and I have been told there is one near here, which being empty and forsaken, a man might buy cheaply."

      "The name o't, young master?" he said questioningly.

      "It is called Pycroft, or some such name," I replied.

      "And is it Pycroft you thought of buying, young master?"

      "Rather, I am come to ask questions about it."

      At this he laughed. "No man will ever live at Pycroft," he said.

      "Why? Is not the house a good one?"

      "It's the company, not the house I was thinking of."

      "The company?"

      "Many and many's the one who has thought of living at Pycroft, but no man hath dared. Through the day it's right eno', but at night the trouble begins. There is not a witch for twenty miles around but gets her marks at Pycroft; there's not a witches' revel but is held there, and as every man knows after they have met at their revels the devilry begins. The corn is blighted, the cows give no milk, the murrain blights the stock, children have the rickets, and everything goes wrong. I have heard that it can be bought for an old song, but no man will buy it. Through the day it seems all quiet and restful, but at night-time blue fires have been seen there, awful smells come from there, ay, and the devil hath been seen there."