Pity he's no crown to his old hat; if he had, he might pass it round, and make eight pennies of his four." "Will you hire me, Mr.Millet," said Israel.
"Ha! that's queer again," cried the knight.
"Hark ye, fellow," said a brisk servant, approaching from the porch, "this is Sir John Millet." Seeming to take pity on his seeming ignorance, as well as on his undisputable poverty, the good knight now told Israel that if he would come the next morning he would see him supplied with a hoe, and moreover would hire him.
It would be hard to express the satisfaction of the wanderer at receiving this encouraging reply.

Emboldened by it, he now returns towards a baker's he had spied, and bravely marching in, flings down all four pennies, and demands bread.

Thinking he would not have any more food till next morning, Israel resolved to eat only one of the pair of two-penny loaves.

But having demolished one, it so sharpened his longing, that yielding to the irresistible temptation, he bolted down the second loaf to keep the other company.
After resting under a hedge, he saw the sun far descended, and so prepared himself for another hard night.

Waiting till dark, he crawled into an old carriage-house, finding nothing there but a dismantled old phaeton.