“It is very strange!” said the squire thoughtfully; and he and Farmer Tallington looked hard at each other. “You have had no quarrel with your men?”
“Quarrel! No. Got as good labourers as a man could wish for. So have you.”
“Yes, I have,” said the squire; “but those stacks could not catch fire by accident. Has anybody threatened you?”
“No,” replied the farmer thoughtfully. “No! Say, neighbour—no, they wouldn’t do that.”
The wheelwright had come up, and stood listening to what was said.
“What do you mean?” said the squire.
“Oh! nothing. ’Tisn’t fair to think such things.”
“Never mind! Speak out, man, speak out!”
“Well, I was wondering whether some one had done this, just as a hint that we were giving offence by joining in the drain business.”
“No, no!” cried the squire indignantly. “People may grumble and be dissatisfied; but, thank Heaven, we haven’t any one in these parts bad enough to do such a thing as that, eh, Hickathrift?”