The Maiden1One evening at the end of May a middle-aged man was walking home from Shaston to the village of Marlott in the Vale of Blackmoor．His legs were thin and weak，and he could not walk in a straight line．He had an empty egg-basket on his arm， and his hat was old and worn．After a while he passed an elderly parson riding a grey horse．‘Good night，’said the man with the basket．‘Good night，Sir John，’said the parson．After another step or two the man stopped and turned round to speak to the parson．‘Now，sir，last market-day we met on this road at the same time，and I said “Good night”and you answered“Good night，Sir John，”as you did just now．’‘I did，’said the parson．‘And once before that，almost a month ago．’...
