CHAPTER I.
OAKFIELD FARMHOUSE—THE BURGLARY—DESPERATE ENCOUNTER—VILLAGERS TO THE RESCUE.
Our first scene opens at a picturesque-looking farmhouse situated on the outskirts of a pretty little village within a few miles of Hull. Oakfield Farmhouse—so called from a number of patriarchal oaks poising their lofty heads in the rear of the establishment—was in the occupation of two substantial yeomen named respectively John and Richard Ashbrook, their only sister Maude being mistress of the bright and cheerful abode.
In the earlier portion of the day our two Yorkshire farmers had been out on a shooting expedition. They brought back with them two friends—fellow-sportsmen. They were driven home by the rain, which fell in torrents, and rendered further sport impracticable.
“I knowed how it would be,” said Richard Ashbrook to his companions. “These beastly river fogs always bring wet, and the clouds have been as ‘bengy’ (full of rain) for some time—as bengy as could be.”
When the party reached Oakfield their garments were saturated with wet, and clung to them like a second skin.
“I have got a fire in the big bedroom—a good blazing fire—for I guessed how it would be,” said Maude Ashbrook, as she received her guests at the door. “You’ll all of you have to change your things. Mercy on us, you are dripping wet, John!” she exclaimed, placing her hand on her brother’s shoulder.
“Our friends will stop and have a morsel of something to eat and drink for the matter o’ that,” observed Richard.
“Indeed no—I think not,” said Mr. Jamblin, one of the farmer’s companions.
“Ah, but he will,” returned the farmer. “None of yer think nots. Come, friends, get thee in. We don’t intend to part with thee so easily.”