"It never was of much use," said Mr. Hoad, answering instead. "The way by the lane is nearly as short, and much cooler."
"It depends where people are going whether it is as short," said father. "It's a flagrant piece of injustice. Do you know who's to blame for it?"
Mr. Hoad looked uneasy, and did not reply; and the squire burst into a loud laugh.
"Why, the Radical candidate, to be sure," said he, with a pardonable sneer in his hearty voice. "Those are the men for that kind of job."
"Mr. Thorne!" exclaimed mother. "No, never!"
"Ay," said father under his breath; "a man who can rob his fellow-creatures in big things won't think much of robbing them in little things!"
"You shouldn't run down your own party, Maliphant," laughed the squire. "Thorne is no particular friend of mine, but robbery is too big a word."
"I understand he's a very charitable man," said mother, who always would have fair play.
"Yes," echoed Joyce. "You don't know, father, what a deal of good Mary Thorne does among the poor."
Father rose; he was trembling. I saw a fire leap in his eye.