“Reason one, ’cause the young gent went in the afternoon to Lenby. Reason two, ’cause he was digging them trifles o’ taters, and young gents don’t go digging them in the dark. That do, sir?”
“Yes. I feel sure now that I was at the rectory,” said Distin, firmly.
“Then I must ha’ made a mistake, sir—eyes nothing like so good as they was.”
“What do you mean,” cried Distin, changing colour once more.
“Oh, nothing, sir, nothing, only I made sure as I see you when I was out in my garden picking apples in the big old tree which is half mine, half my mate’s. But of course it was my mistake. Thought you was going down the deep lane.”
“Oh, no, I remember now,” said Distin, carelessly; “I go out so much to think and study, that I often quite forget. Yes, I did go down the lane—of course, and I noticed how many blackberries there were on the banks.”
“Ay, there are a lot, sir—a great lot to-year. The bairns gets quite basketsful of ’em.”
“Are you coming, Distin?” cried the rector.
“Yes, sir, directly,” cried Distin; and then haughtily, “Do you want to ask me any more questions, constable?”
“No, sir, thankye; that will do.”