“In my park—but why?”
“There is a right of way through the park, my lady.”
“True. Now, Nicodemus, speak up, speak the whole truth? Did you or did you not hear Sergeant Exton and Agatha say that my village ought to be burnt?”
The Ancient, never forgetting doles, piped up valiantly:
“I heard ’un, my lady; I heard more, too.”
“I did say that a score of cottages ought to be burnt, including Timothy Farleigh’s. And what of it? It’s true. Let the whole truth come out. Nicodemus Burble heard more. What? I’ll tell you. He heard Timothy Farleigh, a man crazy with misery, say that the Hall ought to be burnt first.”
The crowd, inarticulate with astonishment, buzzed like a swarm of bees. Grimshaw, thinking first of his patient, anxious to keep her quiet, suggested an immediate withdrawal to the Vicarage.
“Not yet,” replied Lady Selina firmly. Perhaps she was conscious of latent sympathy from her people. In a very few she may have divined hostility. She addressed the parson.
“You know, Mr. Goodrich, what was said by Sergeant Exton when I had to give his father notice to leave his farm?”
“I grieve to say I do,” answered Goodrich.