
horrible exclamation against Jack Hostler, under cover of which Tressilian and
his attendant escaped into the house.
    They had no sooner entered a private chamber, to which Goodman Crane himself
had condescended to usher them, and despatched their worthy and obsequious host
on the errand of procuring wine and refreshment, than Wayland Smith began to
give vent to his self-importance.
    »You see, sir,« said he, addressing Tressilian, »that I nothing fabled in
asserting that I possessed fully the mighty mystery of a farrier, or mareschal,
as the French more honourably term us. These dog hostlers, who, after all, are
the better judges in such a case, know what credit they should attach to my
medicaments. I call you to witness, worshipful Master Tressilian, that nought,
save the voice of calumny and the hand of malicious violence, hath driven me
forth from a station in which I held a place alike useful and honoured.«
    »I bear witness, my friend, but will reserve my listening,« answered
Tressilian, »for a safer time; unless, indeed, you deem it essential to your
reputation, to be translated, like your late dwelling, by the assistance of a
flash of fire. For you see your best friends reckon you no better than a mere
sorcerer.«
    »Now, Heaven forgive them,« said the artist, »who confound learned skill
with unlawful magic! I trust a man may be as skilful, or more so, than the best
chirurgeon ever meddled with horse-flesh, and yet may be upon the matter little
more than other ordinary men, or at the worst no conjuror.«
    »God forbid else!« said Tressilian. »But be silent just for the present,
since here comes mine host with an assistant, who seems something of the least.«
    Every body about the inn, Dame Crank herself included, had been indeed so
interested and agitated by the story they had heard of Wayland Smith, and by the
new, varying, and more marvellous editions of the incident, which arrived from
various quarters, that mine host, in his righteous determination to accommodate
his guests, had been able to obtain the assistance of none of his household,
saving that of a little boy, a junior tapster, of about twelve years old, who
was called Sampson.
    »I wish,« he said, apologising to his guests, as he set down a flagon of
sack, and promised some food immediately, - »I wish the devil had flown away
with my wife and my whole family instead of this Wayland Smith
