Diamond Notch? Get him the Can with the Diamond Notch! He must have the
can with the Diamond Notch! How can he travel without the Can with the
Diamond Notch? He'll die without the Can with the Diamond Notch!"

Festus Clasby was endeavouring to deliver his soul of impassioned
protests when his neighbour, assisted by a bystander or two, forcibly
hoisted him up on his cart and he was driven away amid a great howling
from the tinkers.

[Illustration: _Festus Clasby_]

It was twilight when he reached his place among the hills, and the good
white letters under the thatch showed clear to his eyes. Pulling himself
together he drove with an air about the gable and into the wide open
yard at the back, fowls clearing out of his way, a sheep-dog coming to
welcome him, a calf mewing mournfully over the half-door of a stable.
Festus Clasby was soothed by this homely, this worshipful, environment,
and got off the cart with a sigh. Inside the kitchen he could hear the
faithful women trotting about preparing the great master's meal. He made
ready to carry the provisions into the shop. When he unwrapped the
sacking from the bacon, something like a sudden stab went through his
breast. Perspiration came out on his forehead. Several large long slices
had been cut off in jagged slashes from the flitches. They lay like
wounded things on the body of the cart. He pulled down the other
purchases feverishly, horror in his face. How many loaves had been torn
off his batch of bread? Where were all the packets of tea and sugar, the
currants and raisins, the flour, the tobacco, the cream-of-tartar, the
caraway seeds, the nutmeg, the lemon peel, the hair oil, the--

Festus Clasby wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He stumbled out