Dinner time came, and Master Fitzwarren (for so was the merchant called)
came home with a good stomach, and brought a friend or two with him from
the Exchange; down they sat to meat, and had speech of many things at
the table; meanwhile the servants were set also at dinner, who would
needs have Whittington, though he had so lately broke his fast, to keep
them company, some of them delighting in his country speech, others
deriding his supposed simplicity.

But to come to the purpose, the table being withdrawn in the parlour,
and the guests departed, and Master Fitzwarren and his daughter left
alone, she being of a good and gentle disposition, began to commend his
charity concerning the poor man whom he relieved that morning, to whom
he answered, God-a-mercy daughter, thou hast done well to remember me,
such a one I sent indeed, but have my servants done as I commanded them?
and where is he now? who answered him, that she had given order he
should stay dinner, and not depart the house till he himself had further
spoken with him. At which they both went unto the Hall, and called the
fellow before them; who appeared unto them with such a bashful humility
that it seemed to them both to beg a charity; some language past betwixt
them concerning him, which gave them content; at length they bid him
retire himself.

When the father and the daughter had some private conference concerning
him she urged him to entertain him into his house, and that there would
be some employment for him, either to run or to go of errands or else to
do some drudgery in the kitchin, as making of fires, scouring kettles,
turning the spit, and the like: To whom the father reply'd that indeed
his work might be worth his meat, but he had no lodging to spare, and
she again answered that there were garrets in the house that were put to
no use at all, and in one of them he might conveniently be lodged and