"Ha' ye, in holy truth, no money?" asked Little John.
"Not a farthing," said the lean Friar sourly.
"Not a groat," said the fat Friar loudly.
"Nay," quoth Little John, "this must not be. Far be it from me to see
such holy men as ye are depart from me with no money. Get both of you
down straightway from off your horses, and we will kneel here in the
middle of the crossroads and pray the blessed Saint Dunstan to send us
some money to carry us on our journey."
"What sayest thou, thou limb of evil!" cried the lean Friar, fairly
gnashing his teeth with rage. "Doss thou bid me, the high cellarer of
Fountain Abbey, to get down from my horse and kneel in the dirty road to
pray to some beggarly Saxon saint?"
"Now," quoth Little John, "I ha' a great part of a mind to crack thy
head for thee for speaking thus of the good Saint Dunstan! But get down
straightway, for my patience will not last much longer, and I may forget
that ye are both in holy orders." So saying, he twirled his stout staff
till it whistled again.
At this speech both friars grew as pale as dough. Down slipped the
fat Brother from off his horse on one side, and down slipped the lean
Brother on the other.
"Now, brothers, down on your knees and pray," said Little John;
thereupon, putting his heavy hands upon the shoulder of each, he forced
them to their knees, he kneeling also. Then Little John began to beseech
Saint Dunstan for money, which he did in a great loud voice. After he
had so besought the Saint for a time, he bade the friars feel in their
pouches and see if the Saint had sent them anything; so each put his
hand slowly in the pouch that hung beside him, but brought nothing
thence.
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