his horse."

"Oh, ay," drawled Hodge; "a fool and a's money be soon parted."

"Will Shakspere is no fool," declared Nick, hotly. "He's made a peck o'
money there in London town, and 's going to buy the Great House in
Chapel lane, and come back here to live."

"Then a 's a witless azzy!" blurted Hodge. "If a 's so great a man
amongst the lords and earlses, a 'd na come back to Stratford. An' I say
a 's a witless loon--so there!"

Nick whirled around in the road. "And I say, Hodge Dawson," he exclaimed
with flashing eyes, "that 'tis a shame for a lout like thee to so
miscall thy thousand-time betters. And what's more, thou shalt unsay
that, or I will make thee swallow thy words right here and now!"

"I'd loike to see thee try," Hodge began; but the words were scarcely
out of his mouth when he found himself stretched on the grass, Nick
Attwood bending over him.

"There! thou hast seen it tried. Now come, take that back, or I will
surely box thine ears for thee."

Hodge blinked and gaped, collecting his wits, which had scattered to the
four winds. "Whoy," said he, vaguely, "if 'tis all o' that to thee, I
take it back."

Nick rose, and Hodge scrambled clumsily to his feet. "I'll na go wi'
thee," said he, sulkily; "I will na go whur I be whupped."