“Nay, lad, I wean’t hoosh! Said, squire, as he’s got thretty shillings saved up, and he’d give it to me to start wi’.”
“And so he shall, my man, and other neighbours will help you too. I’ll make Dick’s thirty shillings a hundred guineas.”
“Well, I can’t do that, Hickathrift,” said Farmer Tallington; “but if ever you want to borrow twenty guineas come to me; and there’s my horse and sled to lead wood wheniver you like, and a willing hand or two to help.”
Hickathrift turned sharply to say something; but he could only utter a great gulp, and, turning away, he went a few yards, and leaned his head upon his arm against a willow tree, and in the bright glow of the burning building, whose gilded smoke rose up like some vast plume, they could see his shoulders heave, while his wife turned to the squire, and in a simple, homely fashion, kissed his hand.
The squire turned to stop Dick, but it was too late, for the lad had reached the wheelwright and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
“Hicky,” he said softly; “be a man!”
“Ay, lad, I will,” said the great fellow, starting up with his eyes wet with tears. “It isn’t the bont plaäce made me soft like that, but what’s been said.”
He had hardly spoken before there was a peculiar noise heard in the distance, as if a drove of cattle had escaped and were coming along the hard road of the fen; but it soon explained itself, for there were shouts and cries, and five minutes later Mr Marston and his men, nearly a hundred strong, came running up, ready to assist, and then utter the fiercest of denunciations against those who had done this thing.
Then there was an ominous silence, as all stood and watched the burning building till there was nothing but a heap of smouldering wood, which was scattered and the last sparks quenched.