“Mebbe I’ve dropped it somewheers else,” he muttered, starting off again, while Mrs Slee had another good look at the letter, and ended by depositing it in her bosom.
“I’ll give it to parson,” she said at last, and then resumed her work.
Meanwhile, Murray Selwood was retracing his steps on the way to Bultitude’s farm, but before he reached the place he came upon John Maine once more, looking eagerly across the fields.
“Well, Maine, how’s the head?” said the vicar, making the young man start, for the grass had deadened his tread. “What can you see—game?”
“I’m afraid it is, sir,” said the young man, bluntly—“the sportsman and the hare.”
“H’m!” ejaculated the vicar, as he caught sight of two figures on the hill-side, far distant; but the day was so beautifully clear that he could make out Richard Glaire and a companion. “Mr Glaire and his cousin?” he said hastily.
“No, sir,” said the young man, quietly, “that’s what it ought to be. It’s Mr Richard Glaire and one of the town girls. I think it’s Daisy Banks. Do you know him well, sir?”
“Yes, pretty well,” said the vicar, eyeing the young man’s saddened face intently.
“Well, sir, it’s no business of mine,” said the young fellow; “but if I was a friend of Mr Richard Glaire, I should tell him to keep at home, and not do that; for the men are getting hot again him, and he may fall into trouble.”
“John Maine, if any violence is intended against Mr Glaire,” said the vicar, “I wish you to tell me at once.”