diffidence. The Abbot stood by the narrow window, and his long
black shadow fell slantwise across the rush-strewn floor.

"Twenty years ago," he said, "your father, the Franklin of
Minstead, died, leaving to the Abbey three hides of rich land in
the hundred of Malwood, and leaving to us also his infant son on
condition that we should rear him until he came to man's estate.
This he did partly because your mother was dead, and partly
because your elder brother, now Socman of Minstead, had already
given sign of that fierce and rude nature which would make him no
fit companion for you. It was his desire and request, however,
that you should not remain in the cloisters, but should at a ripe
age return into the world."

"But, father," interrupted the young man "it is surely true that
I am already advanced several degrees in clerkship?"

"Yes, fair son, but not so far as to bar you from the garb you
now wear or the life which you must now lead. You have been
porter?"

"Yes, father."

"Exorcist?"

"Yes, father."

"Reader?"

"Yes, father."