I took up my hat and wandered away down the village street, turning the matter over in my head.
But it was no easy thing for me to think seriously of anything in the hamlet; for I was in some way, my dear children, though I say it myself, a favourite with the young and with the old, so that I could not walk ten paces without some greeting or address.

There were my own brothers trailing behind me, Baker Mitford's children tugging at my skirts, and the millwright's two little maidens one on either hand.

Then, when I had persuaded these young rompers to leave me, out came Dame Fullarton the widow, with a sad tale about how her grindstone had fallen out of its frame, and neither she nor her household could lift it in again.

That matter I set straight and proceeded on my way; but I could not pass the sign of the Wheatsheaf without John Lockarby, Reuben's father, plunging out at me and insisting upon my coming in with him for a morning cup.
'The best glass of mead in the countryside, and brewed under my own roof,' said he proudly, as he poured it into the flagon.

'Why, bless you, master Micah, a man with a frame like yours wants store o' good malt to keep it up wi'.' 'And malt like this is worthy of a good frame to contain it,' quoth Reuben, who was at work among the flasks.
'What think ye, Micah ?' said the landlord.