II
Well, one Tuesday, it was a Shrove Tuesday, the wheelwright of Coq laid aside his plane, and was slipping on his blouse to go and drink his can of beer at Conde, when two strangers came in, club in hand.
"Would you put a new shaft to my club, master?" said one of them.
"What are you asking me, friends? A day like this! I wouldn't give the smallest stroke of the chisel for a brick of gold. Besides, does ony one play golf on Shrove Tuesday? You had much better go and see the mummers tumbling in the high street of Condé."
"We take no interest in the tumbling of mummers," replied the stranger. "We have challenged each other at golf and we want to play it out. Come, you won't refuse to help us, you who are said to be one of the finest players of the country?"
"If it is a match, that is different," said Roger.
He turned up his sleeves, hooked on his apron, and in the twinkling of an eye had adjusted the shaft.
"How much do I owe you?" asked the unknown, drawing out his purse.
"Nothing at all, faith; it is not worth while."
The stranger insisted, but in vain.
III
"You are too honest, i'faith," said he to the wheelwright, "for me to be in your debt. I will grant you the fulfilment of three wishes."
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