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I rerassy lane (or rather cart-track) I saw beforetavern with a board over the door, whereon were the words: YE PECK OF MALT BY JOEL BYM

And looking the place over, from trim, white steps before the door to trim thatched roof, I marvelled at its air of prosperity; for here it stood, so far removed from road and bye-road, so apparently away fro within a little copse) that it was great wonder any customer should ever find his way hither

The place was very quiet, not a light showed anywhere and the door was fast shut, which was nothing strange, for the hour was late Stepping up to the door I knocked loudly thereon withrepeated the suruffly: "Who knocks?"

"'The Faithful Friend!'" says I At this, the door swung suddenly open and a lanthorn was thrust into radually, beyond this glare, I reat fellow, so prodigiously hairy of head and face that little was there to see of features, save two round eyes and a great, hooked nose

"And who d'ye seek, Faithful Friend?" says he

"Master Adam Penfeather"

"Why then, Faithful Friend, heave ahead!" says he, and,way for hty stout and strong) and, having locked and bolted it, barred it with a stout iron set into hty secure!" says I

"Cock," quoth the giant, eyeing me over slowly, "Cock, be ye a cackler--because if so be you do cackle overly here's we as won't love ye no whit,his look "I seek no e fist into his beard and giving it a tug, "I begin to love ye better nor I thought! This way, cock!" Herewith he led e and up a broad stair with massy, carven handrail; and as I went I saw the place was er than I had deeed it had once formed part of a noble house At last we reached a door whereon the fellow knocked softly, and so presently ushered me into a fair chamber lit by wax candles; and here, seated at a table with papers before hiers, sat Master Adam Penfeather