"What on earth for?"
"Well, we can hardly repair the dam in our pyjamas."
Eves laughed.
"You're a priceless old fathead," he said. "Repairs must wait till the morning. I can never do any work after a rag."
"A rag! But it was a pure accident, due to the idiot's own meddlesomeness."
"Most true; but it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't kept his attention fixed by the longest spell of spouting I ever did in my life. It was a ripping rag, old man, and now we'll toddle back to bed. The one thing that beats me is, what's his motive? He'd hardly take the trouble to smash our dam just to get even with us, would he? That's a kid's trick. There's something very fishy about old Noakes."
III
Templeton had not settled which among his many ideas to work at, when accident launched his imagination upon a new flight.
One day the village was stirred to unusual excitement. Two items of local news, following quickly one upon the other, gave the folk so much matter for gossip that the amount of work they did was reduced fifty per cent. The first was that Nahum Noakes's final appeal had failed; the second, that young Wilfred Banks, the son of Squire Banks, one of the local magnates, had been seriously injured by the fall of an aeroplane.
Mrs. Trenchard, having been "there and back," was full of the story.