“Ha, Cherry, my lad, glad to see you out again,” said Parson Seyton, coming cheerily over the furrows. “Good-day t’ye, Willie; turnips look well.”
Young Fleming touched his hat, and after a word or two, Cheriton asked Mr Seyton if he were going Oakby way, as they might walk together; and, with a farewell to Fleming, they started down the hill.
“If I hadn’t found you here, I should have been inclined to poach on Ellesmere’s manor, and give young Willie a word of advice,” said Mr Seyton.
“I know. He has been getting in with the Ryders and Fowlers, and my father heard an exaggerated story about him and Ned being seen in our copses at night. I think that the Flemings are above taking to poaching; but Willie has been in a bad way.”
“Hope your father’ll catch some of my fellows; do ’em good,” said the parson. “If he caught my nephew Dick, and shut him up for a bit, the place might be all the better. Hangs about all day, just like his father. He’s after something, and I can’t make out what.”
“Sometimes I see him about with Bob.”
“With Bob? Ha! you look about you, Cherry,” said the parson, mysteriously. “My eyes are sharp. I knew when Miss Ruth and Captain Rupert had their little meetings; but then, I knew better than spoil sport.”
“You knew more than most,” said Cherry.
“Ay, and look here, Cherry,” said the parson, stopping and looking full at him. “There’s another thing I can see, and that is, when a man’s in earnest and when he isn’t; and when all’s smooth and sweet to a girl, and when she looks this way and that for something that’s wanting.”
“I have nothing to do with my cousin’s engagement,” said Cherry, bewildered.