"It was you who were at the squire's house when I called, a few nights ago."
"Yes; I had an errand for him."
As he uttered the last words, Dan Pickley looked at Ralph closely. He was wondering if the boy had overheard much of the conversation which had passed between Squire Paget and himself that night in the library.
Pickley sat down on the end of the bridge, and began to count the folks as they passed over. Ralph saw that he was keeping track of the toll, but said nothing.
"Let me help you turn the bridge," said Pickley when a horn sounded for the draw to be opened.
"No, thank you; I can do it alone," replied Ralph.
"Don't you want me to take hold?"
"It is not needed. You will get enough of the work after I leave."
"You don't want to be a bit sociable," growled Pickley, and he turned away, but still kept on counting the passengers as they crossed.
"I suppose he wants to make sure that I am not going to cheat the bridge board out of its cash," mused Ralph, somewhat bitterly. "No doubt Squire Paget fancies that, now I have my walking-papers, I will steal every penny I can!"