"Ah! You see how things are with me," said the Squire bitterly. "Not a soul cares whether the Towers burns to the ground, and I and mine in it. I remember, forty years ago, when the place took fire, the bell brought the whole village to our help. Now they'll lie abed and laugh to think I'm homeless."
"'Tis a disgrace and a scandal," cried the riding-officer, "and I'll tell them so. The idiots, to suppose you would inform on them! I'll set that right, Squire; I blame myself for not doing it before, but I believed they would come to their senses."
"You will waste your breath, Polwhele. Don't attempt it for me. I could tell you one way to dash their enmity, but that's impossible."
"What is it?"
"Send John Trevanion where he came from. 'Tis he that is poisoning folks' minds against us; yes, 'tis he."
At this point Dick returned from the house, whither he had been to stop the ringing of the bell. Sam came with him.
"Now, young Sam," said his father wrathfully, "'twas you that started this blaze, I'll be bound, wi' yer mischief and jiggery. I'll leather 'ee, that I will."
"Be choked if I did!" was Sam's indignant cry. "Why do 'ee say it, Feyther? You think because I break a dish now and again that I do all the mischief, but I don't care who the man is, I hain't been nigh tool-house or brew-house this mortal day."
"Then who did it? Tell me that."
"I can't tell what I don't know, but if I med put a meanin' to it, I'd say 'twas done by the same hands as cut our lines and set our boat adrift, be drowned to 'em."