The old man with a hammer and the one-eyed man with a spear were seated by the roadside talking as I came up the hill.  
"It isn't as though they hadn't asked us," the one with the hammer said.
 
"There ain't no more than twenty as knows about it," said the other.
 
"Twenty's twenty," said the first.
 
"After all these years," said the one-eyed man with the spear. "After all these years. We might go back just once."
 
"O' course we might," said the other.
 
Their clothes were old even for laborers, the one with the hammer had a leather apron full of holes and blackened, and their hands looked like leather. But whatever they were they were English, and this was pleasant to see after all the motors that had passed me that day with their burden of mixed and doubtful nationalities.
 
When they saw me the one with the hammer touched his greasy cap.
 
"Might we make so bold, sir," he said, "as the ask the way to
Stonehenge?"
 
"We never ought to go," mumbled the other plaintively. "There's not more than twenty as knows, but…."
 
I was bicycling there myself to see the place so I pointed out the way and rode on at once, for there was something so utterly servile about them both that I did not care for their company. They seemed by their wretched mien to have been persecuted or utterly neglected for many years, I thought that very likely they had done long terms of penal servitude.
 
When I came to Stonehenge I saw a group of about............