“What on earth are you making that whistling for?” he asked. “I declare one would think that you were as happy as a man could be.”
“And so I am,” said the baker, “And so I should think were you too, for you have nothing to trouble you.”
“Nothing to trouble me, forsooth!” cried the doctor in a rage. “How dare you insult me in this way? I tell you what it is, my fine fellow, I think you are very impertinent, and if I have any more of your impudence I will take my stick and thrash you soundly. It really is not to be borne, that one man should be allowed to tell another that he has nothing to complain of.”
“Nay, you can have as much to complain of as you like, so long as I have not,” cried the baker, and he laughed loudly. This only made the doctor angrier still, and he was just going to seize the baker when up came the farmer.
“Was there ever such a village as this?” he cried. “It is not fit for anyone to live in, there is always such fighting and quarrelling going on. What is the matter here?”
“Matter enough,” cried the doctor. “Here is a fellow dares to tell me I have nothing to complain of, nor he either.”
“This is monstrous!” said the farmer; “he deserves to be hung. How dares he say such a thing on such a wretched day as this, with such a blue sky and such a bright sun?”
“Why, Master Farmer,” cried the baker, “yesterday you grumbled because it was raining, and now you grumble because it is fine.”
“And I tell you that it is enough to make one grumble,” said the farmer. “It should have been fair yesterday, and should have rained today. You ought to be ashamed of such talk, Master Baker, and I think it would serve you justly right if we took you before the Justice and let us see what he thinks of your conduct.”
“Nay!” cried the baker, beginning to be frightened, “what have I done that I am to be taken before the Justice?”
“What have you done, indeed!” said the doctor. “We will see if the Justice cannot find that out pretty quickly.” So they seized the baker and dragged him away in spite of himself, and as they pulled him through the village the people thronged about them, and followed till there was quite a large crowd.
The Justice sat at his door smoking a pipe, with tears in his eyes.
“Now what is all this uproar for?” cried he. “Am I never to be left in peace? How hard is the life of a Justice!” but he got up and came out on the steps to meet them.
“See here,” cried the doctor; “here is a man who says he has nothing to complain of, and we have brought him to you, to know if he is to be punished, or to be allowed to go on talking like this.”
“Certainly not,” cried the Justice, “or we shall soon have the whole village in an uproar. Let him be taken to the marketplace, and I will order that he be publicly flogged by the soldiers.”
At this the poor baker burst out crying, and entreated to be let off, saying that now indeed he had plenty to complain of, but at this the justice was angrier still. “Then,” said he, “you certainly deserve to be flogged for having told an untruth before, when you said you had not. Take him away, and do as I bid.”
So they dragged the baker off to the marketplace, and made a ring round him, so that he could not escape, and then there came down two or three soldiers with ropes in their hands, and they seized him, and began to beat him before all the crowd.
But by this time all the people were so enraged against him, that a number of them cried, “Let us go to his house and pull it down.” So off they ran to the baker’s house, and broke the windows and knocked about the furniture, and then some of them fell on the oven, and wrenched off the door, and others seized the pokers and tongs, and smashed in its sides, and in the hurry and scuffle, the little dark man crept out of the oven and scuttled away unseen by anyone. But no sooner had he gone than a great change came across the people.
The soldiers on the green stopped beating the baker, and looked at each other aghast, and the Justice called out,
“Stop! What is all this uproar about? And what has this man done that you are beating him without my orders?” and the people in the crowd whispered to each other; “It is true—what has he done?” and they slunk away, looking ashamed.
The Justice also at first looked somewhat ashamed of himself, but he drew himself up, and looking very important, said, “There, my man, you are forgiven for this once, and now go your way, and see that you behave better in future;” and then he walked away with much dignity.
So the baker was left alone in the marketplace, and he cried for rage and pain.
“This all comes of the oven imp,” cried he, as he limped home. “Directly I get home I will drive him out of my oven, and away from my house. Better to have a hundred batches of bread spoiled than to be flogged for saying one is happy.” But when he reached his house the little dark man was nowhere to be found; there was nought but the broken oven with its sides battered in.
The baker mended the oven, and from that time forth his bread was just like other people’s; but for all that he had learnt to be quite contented, for now he knew that there were worse things than having his loaves burnt black, and
