At last he confessed that the Smith had
done it. "What did you pay him?" said the novice.
"Penny," said the farmer, very sulkily. "That's less than
a Christian would have charged," said the novice. "I
hope you threw a 'thank you' into the bargain." "No,"
said the farmer; "Wayland-Smith's a heathen." "Heathen
or no heathen," said the novice, "you took his help,
and where you get help there you must give thanks."
"What?" said the farmer - he was in a furious temper
because I was walking the old horse in circles all this time
- "What, you young jackanapes?" said he. "Then by
your reasoning I ought to say 'Thank you' to Satan if he
helped me?" "Don't roll about up there splitting reasons
with me," said the novice. "Come back to the Ford and
thank the Smith, or you'll be sorry."
'Back the farmer had to go. I led the horse, though no
one saw me, and the novice walked beside us, his gown
swishing through the shiny dew and his fishing-rod
across his shoulders, spear-wise. When we reached the
Ford again - it was five o'clock and misty still under the
oaks - the farmer simply wouldn't say "Thank you.
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