“Do you remember the rookery at Scar Top?”
“Yes. I often hed a friendly threep with Ark-royd about it. He would insist, that his rookery hed the largest congregation. I let him think so—he’s twenty years older than I am—and I did hear that the Bradford man had bought the place because of the rookery.”
“So he did. And now, father, every bird has left it. There was not one nest built there this spring. Not one!”
“I never heard the like. Whoever told thee such a story?”
“The whole village knows it. One morning very early every rook in Scar Top went away. They went altogether, just before daybreak. They went to Saville Court and settled in a long row of elm trees in the home meadow. They are building there now and the Bradford man——”
“Give him his name. It is John Denby. He was born in Annis—in my manor—and he worked for the colonel, near twenty years.”
“Very well. John Denby and Colonel Arkroyd have quarreled about the birds, and there is likely to be a law suit over them.”
“Upon my word! That will be a varry interesting quarrel. What could make birds act in such a queer way? I niver knew them to do such a thing before.”
“Well, father, rooks are very aristocratic birds. Denby could not get a caw out of the whole flock. They would not notice Denby, and they used to talk to Arkroyd, whenever he came out of the house. Denby used to work for Colonel Arkroyd, and the rooks knew it. They did not consider him a gentleman, and they would not accept his hospitality.”
“That is going a bit too far, Katherine.”