The Broad Highway

"Ye see," he cried, as soon as he had recovered his breath

sufficiently, "ye see, I be wunnerful spry an' active--could

dance ye a hornpipe any day, if I was so minded."

"On my word," said I, "I believe you could! But where are you

going now?"

"To Siss'n'urst!"

"How far is that?"

"'Bout a mile acrost t' fields, you can see the pint o' Joel

Amos's oast-'ouse above the trees yonder."

"Is there a good inn at Sissinghurst?"

"Ay, theer's 'The Bull,' comfortable, an' draws fine ale!"

"Then I will go to Sissinghurst."

"Ay, ay," nodded the old man, "if it be good ale an' a

comfortable inn you want you need seek no further nor

Siss'n'urst; ninety an' one years I've lived there, an' I know."

"Ninety-one years!" I repeated.

"As ever was!" returned the Ancient, with another nod. "I be the

oldest man in these parts 'cept David Relf, an' 'e died last

year."

"Why then, if he's dead, you must be the oldest," said I.

"No," said the Ancient, shaking his head,--"ye see it be this

way: David were my brother, an' uncommon proud 'e were o' bein'

the oldest man in these parts, an' now that 'e be dead an' gone

it du seem a poor thing--ah! a very poor thing!--to tak' 'vantage

of a dead man, an' him my own brother!" Saying which, the

Ancient rose, and we went on together, side by side, towards

Sissinghurst village.