"Don't go too close," advised the manager hastily. "One false step and you'd have a dreadful fall—be killed, perhaps."
"I'll be careful," Edgar answered as he stood leaning forward, looking into the black depths below.
His father caught him by the arm and pulled him sharply back with a stern rebuke for his foolhardiness.
"There was no chance of my falling," Edgar declared, rather disconcerted. "I never get giddy."
"You cannot be certain you would not," Mr. Marsh said somewhat sternly. "You had better keep by my side, and then I shall know you are safe. I see you are not to be trusted by yourself."
"Very well, father," his son agreed. "I won't go away."
Subsequent to a little further conversation with the manager, Mr. Marsh retraced his footsteps to the dog-cart and Edgar followed him. They took their seats in the vehicle; and Caleb Glubb, after putting the reins into his master's hand, touched his cap and returned to his work, whilst Darkie started homewards at a good rate.
"Do you know who that man is?" Edgar inquired as soon as they were in the high road and passing the long rows of labour-men's cottages. "He lives there in that little house with the flowers in the garden."
"Does he?" Mr. Marsh said carelessly. "He is the poor fellow who met with a serious accident in the spring. But how did you come to know of him? I suppose you've been talking to him, eh?"
Edgar explained all he had heard concerning Caleb Glubb and his family from his cousins, winding up by repeating his conversation with the man that afternoon. Mr. Marsh listened at first with little interest; but he grew more alert towards the conclusion of his son's tale.