Nay,
nay, dame, I say nought to hinder thee; I know too well what it means
when spring comes, and thou beginn'st to moan and tell up the tale of
the shrines where thou hast not told thy beads."
It was all in good humour, and Master Hall walked out to the city
gate to speed his gad-about or pious wife, whichever he might call
her, on her way, apparently quite content to let her go on her
pilgrimages for the summer quarter.
She rode a stout mule, and was attended by two sturdy varlets--quite
sufficient guards for pilgrims, who were not supposed to carry any
valuables. Grisell sadly rode her pony, keeping her veil well over
her face, yearning over the last view of the beloved spire, thinking
of Sister Avice ministering to her poor, and with a very definite
fear of her own reception in the world and dread of her welcome at
home. Yet there was a joy in being on horseback once more, for her
who had ridden moorland ponies as soon as she could walk.
Goodwife Hall talked on, with anecdotes of every hamlet that they
passed, and these were not very many. At each church they dismounted
and said their prayers, and if there were a hostel near, they let
their animals feed the while, and obtained some refreshment
themselves. England was not a very safe place for travellers just
then, but the cockle-shells sewn to the pilgrim's hat of the dame,
and to that of one of her attendants, and the tall staff and wallet
each carried, were passports of security.
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