Talking thus, we presently reached a stile beyond which the
footpath led away through swaying corn and by shady hopgarden, to
Sissinghurst village. Here the Preacher stopped and gave me his
hand, but I noticed he still puffed at his pipe.
"And you are now a blacksmith?"
"And mightily content so to be."
"You are a most strange young man!" said the Preacher, shaking
his head.
"Many people have told me the same, sir," said I, and vaulted
over the stile. Yet, turning back when I had gone some way, I
saw him leaning where I had left him, and with his pipe still in
his mouth.