"Now I see that Mr. Norcot has oppressed you as he oppresses me. I always feel not good enough, nor great enough to breathe the same air with him."

"But he is not good, nor yet great," John answered.

"Well, we stand where we did. You must see your grandmother and be firm with her. You are a man now. Approach her boldly upon the subject of your father. She knows all about you—more even than I do—'tis not to be endured. And if you cannot win her to our side, then I must. Just think how it might chance if she has the amphora!"

Upon this fascinating problem they spoke at length, and with such earnestness, that they forgot their love affairs for full five minutes. Not until familiar landmarks warned them that they neared their home again, did they become personal. Then John Lee's soul grew glad once more, and hope woke within him at her voice.

Peter Norcot, meantime, heard something of interest on his homeward way. In a wild heath beyond Hameldon, he overtook two old men plodding along together, and as he possessed a remarkable memory, the horseman recollected one of them very well, and offered him greeting.

"How now, Mr. 'Ha'penny for a rook, a penny for a jay'! How wags the world with you? You forget me, but I remember Leaman Cloberry who showed me my road to Fox Tor Farm when I was fog-foundered a while agone."

"To be sure—an' they be reaping what they sowed there by all accounts—I mean where I took you."

"Reaping what you sowed more like," said Putt wrathfully. "If I'd catched you at your May-games wi' rats and moles up-along, I'd have broken your wicked neck—old as you be."

"Stuff an' nonsense!" answered Cloberry, "I never went nigh the place. 'Tis Childe's Tomb I speak of, not rats an' mice. 'Tis pulling down of holy crosses wi'out more thought than an honest man would draw a turnip. An' they lost their only son; and but for the mercy of God might have had their throats cut last night—eh, Uncle Smallridge?"

"'Tis so indeed, your honour," piped Uncle. "An' me the first to tell the news; for if they'd escaped, 'tis odds but they'd have fallen on man, woman, 'an childern; for they'm little better'n Red Injuns by all accounts."