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replied John, 'boot you are going to be a farmer, like your father.'

'No. I do nay care for farming at all.'

''ow are you going to be soch a skilled craftsman? A craftsman must 'ave an apprenticeship. Your father would never agree and 'e does nay 'ave muney,' whispered John.

'I will find a way,' promised Richard.

John's father and mother were by that time giving them looks that told them that they had better quit whispering.

After the service, Richard departed from John's company and decided to walk past Saint Michael's on High Street, then past Saint George's and Saint Mary's. As he passed by each edifice he studied the glass work from the outside. The colors were darker and the windows were not so compelling as his experience in All Saints'. Then he realized that the effect he had witnessed was the light pouring through the glass. It was the light that gave the life to the glass. Richard thought on this again and again as he walked over the River Welland on the Stamford Bridge and on past Saint Martin's. The light, he realized, was like the power of God, giving the window its life. That light and that power could only be witnessed from inside the church. God was in the church. For the first time in his twelve years Richard began to understand the power that came from worshiping together.

Richard then followed a pathway along the river until he cut through the fields and on to his home. His mother and father had arrived home from worship services some time earlier. They of course had attended in the All Saints' church of Easton-on-the-hill.

'Where 'ave you been for so long?' asked his father, 'We still 'ave work to do.' Despite the fact that it was the Lord's Day, the animals still had to be care for. Work on the farm is never done and there was really very little time to rest, especially a whole day.

'I 'ate this farm,' said Richard half under his breath.

'Whot was that you seed?' questioned his father.

'I seed that I 'ate farming,' exclaimed Richard with a little more energy than he had expected.

'And if you 'ate farming so much,' questioned Lind ''ow do you expect to eat?' 'If you like eating our food, you'd bet'er also luv farming. That is 'ow we eat.'

His mother, Gleda, had been listening and came to Richard' side. 'Lind, me luv, the boy luvs farming, he just needs sume dinner. Let 'im eat before he works.'

Lind relented and went out the door with Bromley.

As Gleda broke off a piece of bread for Richard, she asked, 'Whot is this then, that you do nay care for farming? Is that true?' Gleda already knew that it was true and she had been concerned. There were not a lot of options for a poor boy from a small village. But, she also knew that Bromley would inherit the farm and the cottage.

'Yes, mum, it is true. I 'ave never liked farming.'

'Then whot is it that you fancy yourself doing so that you can eat?'

'I am going to fashion magnificent windows for the church,' replied Richard with conviction.

'Whot! A glazier?' replied Gleda. This is the first time that Richard had heard the word, it sounded strange to him. 'And 'ow will you do that? A person must have training, an apprenticeship! That costs muney and we do nay 'ave it.'

Richard had finished his bread and milk and he left through the door to join Lind and Bromley. He was a little dejected at the response that he had received. He had really thought that his mother would understand.
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After the worship service, John had returned to the Darby estate with his parents. The well manicured park rolled over the hills to the right and the River Welland hugged the grounds to the left as it crawled its way toward Stamford. The park surrounding the estate was well apportioned with neatly trimmed hedges and the beautiful house was guarded by a deep and wide mote. The house sat upon a little rise and from that point a person could see miles of rolling fields, each separated with a hedge or a stone wall. Sheep grazed in many