"Silence, thou foul-mouthed vermin," said Dame Crank; "is it fit for
a heretic horse-boy like thee to handle such a text as the Catholic
clergy?"
"In troth no, dame," replied the man of oats; "and as you yourself are
now no text for their handling, dame, whatever may have been the case in
your day, I think we had e'en better leave un alone."
At this last exchange of sarcasm, Dame Crank set up her throat, and
began a horrible exclamation against Jack Hostler, under cover of which
Tressilian and his attendant escaped into the house.
They had no sooner entered a private chamber, to which Goodman Crane
himself had condescended to usher them, and dispatched their worthy and
obsequious host on the errand of procuring wine and refreshment, than
Wayland Smith began to give vent to his self-importance.
"You see, sir," said he, addressing Tressilian, "that I nothing fabled
in asserting that I possessed fully the mighty mystery of a farrier, or
mareschal, as the French more honourably term us. These dog-hostlers,
who, after all, are the better judges in such a case, know what credit
they should attach to my medicaments. I call you to witness, worshipful
Master Tressilian, that nought, save the voice of calumny and the hand
of malicious violence, hath driven me forth from a station in which I
held a place alike useful and honoured."
"I bear witness, my friend, but will reserve my listening," answered
Tressilian, "for a safer time; unless, indeed, you deem it essential
to your reputation to be translated, like your late dwelling, by the
assistance of a flash of fire. For you see your best friends reckon you
no better than a mere sorcerer."
"Now, Heaven forgive them," said the artist, "who confounded learned
skill with unlawful magic! I trust a man may be as skilful, or more so,
than the best chirurgeon ever meddled with horse-flesh, and yet may be
upon the matter little more than other ordinary men, or at the worst no
conjurer."
"God forbid else!" said Tressilian. "But be silent just for the present,
since here comes mine host with an assistant, who seems something of the
least."
Everybody about the inn, Dame Crane herself included, had been indeed
so interested and agitated by the story they had heard of Wayland Smith,
and by the new, varying, and more marvellous editions of the incident
which arrived from various quarters, that mine host, in his righteous
determination to accommodate his guests, had been able to obtain the
assistance of none of his household, saving that of a little boy, a
junior tapster, of about twelve years old, who was called Sampson.