“Aye, but I did see him come out, and I see him go in all of a hurry like,” said old Tummus sturdily.
“Where were you?”
“In the shrubbery, raking up the dead leaves as he told me to the night afore, and forgotten as I was there so near.”
“And you were busy raking the leaves?” said Grange.
“Nay, I warn’t; I was a-watching on him, and left off, for I didn’t see what he wanted there.”
“No, no, it’s impossible; he would have been so careful,” said Grange hurriedly.
“Keerful?” cried old Tummus contemptuously: “he did it o’ purpose. I know: out o’ spite.”
“Tummus, you’re driving us in a coach and four into the workhouse,” cried his wife passionately.
“Good job too. I don’t keer. I say Dan Barnett did it out o’ spite, and I’ll go straight to the missus and tell her.”
“No,” said John Grange sternly. “Not a word. What you say is impossible. Daniel Barnett does not like me, and he resents my being here, but he could not have been guilty of so cowardly, so contemptible an act.”