'Now, it is our turn,' insisted ruddy-faced John Audland, 'George Fox
must come home with me. My house at Crosslands will be the most
convenient resting-place for him, seeing it lies mid-way between here
and Preston Patrick; and to Preston Patrick and the General Meeting of
our Seeking People he must certainly come, since it is to be held in
three days' time. There are many folk, still seeking, on the other
side of the dales, who have not yet heard the good news, but who will
rejoice mightily when they find him there. Besides, he has promised my
wife that he will be the first guest to come and bless our home.'
'Yes in truth, he shall return with thee,' echoed Audland's friend,
John Camm of Cammsgill, 'since Preston Patrick is too far a step for
him to-day. He shall lodge with thee and thy good wife Anne, and bless
your home. But on Wednesday, betimes, thou must bring him to me at
Cammsgill right early in the day--and I will take him as my guest to
Preston Patrick and our Seekers' Meeting.'
John Audland readily assented to this proposal. He and his wife would
have the wonderful Stranger all to themselves until Wednesday. As the
two men wandered back over the hills in a satisfied silence, his mind
was full of all the questions he meant to ask. For had not he himself,
though only a youth of twenty-two, been one of the appointed preachers
at Firbank Chapel? Truly he had done his best there, as at other
times, to feed the people; yet in spite of his words they had seemed
ever hungry, until the Stranger came among them, breaking the True
Bread of Life for all to share.
John Audland was 'a young man of a comely countenance, and very lovely
qualities.'[7] Never a thought of jealousy or envy crossed his mind;
only he was filled with a longing to know more, to learn, to be fed
himself, that he, in his turn, might feed others. Still, being but
human, it was with slight irritation that he heard himself hailed with
a loud 'halloo!' from behind. Looking round, he beheld a long-legged
figure ambling after them along the dusty road, and recognised a
certain tactless youth, John Story by name, famous throughout the
district for his knack of thrusting himself in where he was least
wanted. Without so much as a 'by your leave' John Story caught up the
other two men and began a lively conversation as they walked along.
Self-invited, he followed them into John Audland's home; where the
young bride, Anne, was too well bred to betray her disappointment at
this unexpected visitor. Elbowing his way rudely past the master of
the house and the invited guest, John Story stalked ahead into the
bridal parlour and sat himself down deliberately in the best chair.
'I'm your first guest now, Mistress Anne,' he said with a chuckle.
Then lighting his pipe he threw his head back and made himself
comfortable--evidently intending to stay the evening. But his chief
care and intention was to patronise George Fox. He had been at Firbank
also, and he had remembered enough of the sermon there to repeat some
of the preacher's words jestingly to his face. He handed his lighted
pipe to George Fox, saying, 'Come, will you take a pipe of
tobacco?'--and added, mockingly, seeing his hesitation, 'Come, all is
ours!'
'But,' says George Fox, 'I looked upon him to be a forward bold lad;
and tobacco I did not take. But it came into my mind that the lad
might think I had not unity with the creation: for I saw he had a
flashy, empty notion of religion. So I took his pipe and put it to my
mouth, and gave it to him again to stop him lest his rude tongue
should say I had not unity with the creation.'
And soon after this, let us hope, John Story, with his tobacco and his
rude tongue, saw fit to take his leave, and remove his unwelcome
presence.