And was it wonderful this should be so? the youth asked of himself.  Were not these poor people fairly starving for want of spiritual food? and what food did they receive from the hands of their parish priest?  Edred knew the old man well.  He was a kind-hearted sexagenarian, and in those days that was accounted an immense age.  He mumbled through the mass on Sundays; he baptized the children and buried the dead when need arose; and if sent for by some person in extremity, would go and administer the last rites of the Church.  But beyond that his duties did not go, and no living soul in the place remembered hearing him speak a word of instruction or admonition on his own account.  He had a passion for gardening, and spent all his spare time with his flowers; and his people went their way as he did his, and their lives never touched on any point.

Such being the case, was it wonderful that the people should come with eagerness to hear of the Saviour from whomsoever would tell them of Him?  Edred well remembered Brother Emmanuel’s words about the four God-given channels of grace—­the living ministry by which He had meant His Church to be perfected.  But how when the streams grew choked? how when the ministry had become a dead letter?  Was the Church, were the people, to die of inanition?  Might not God pardon them for listening to any messenger who came with His name upon his lips?  Surely He who lived in the heavens would pardon them even if it were sin, seeing that it was the instinctive love of His own wandering sheep which brought them crowding round any shepherd who would teach them of Him, even though he did not come in the God-directed order.

Some such thoughts in a more chaotic form surged through Edred’s head as he stood listening, almost causing him to lose the words of the preacher, though the tenor of his discourse was plain.  He almost wished he might enter into a discussion with this enthusiast, and point out to him where he thought him extravagant and wrong; but young as he was, Edred yet knew something of the futility of argument with those whose minds are made up, and caution withheld him from entering into any argument with one who was plainly a Lollard preacher.  So, after listening with sympathy and interest for a long while, he quietly stole away again.

The bull baiting was over by this time.  The games and other sports were recommencing with greater energy after this brief interruption.  The miracle play was again represented, and Edred stood a few minutes to watch, thinking within his heart that this representation, half comical, half blasphemous (though the people who regarded it seemed in no way aware of this), was a strange way of bringing home the realities of the Scriptures, when it could be done so far more faithfully and eloquently by simply reading the gospel words in the tongue of the common people.

His eye roved from the actors, with their mincing words and artificial gestures, to the group still collected beneath the tree, and he could not but contrast the two methods in his own mind, and wonder for a moment whether the Lollards could be altogether so desperately wicked as their enemies would make out.