The thatched cottages of Inchbourne village stood upon three sides of a pleasant green and in this green was a pool shaded by willows and fed by a rippling brook.
"'Tis a mighty pretty place!" said the Major.
"Aye, sir—to look at—from a distance, but there ain't a cottage as aren't damp, nor a roof as don't leak like a sieve. Still 'tis pretty enough I'll not deny, though 'tis an ill-conditioned folk lives there, your honour, hang-dog rascals, poachers and the like——"
"And small wonder if things be so bad, ill-conditions beget roguery, Zeb, I marvel what Jennings can have been doing to let things come to such a pass!"
"Co-lecting rents mostly, sir!"
"You've no particular regard for Mr. Jennings, Zebedee."
"I never said so, your honour."
"He complained of you once, Zebedee——"
"Sir, the same month as you and me come a-marching into this here estate said Jennings turned old Bet Seamore out of her bit o' cottage whereupon I dooly ventured a objection——"
"Hum!" mused the Major, staring down at the peaceful hamlet. "He will be awaiting us——"