"But is it impossible to get into the woodshed?" continued Percivale, holding her to her point with a patience that made Claud marvel.
"No, sir, but he's piled up the wood till you can only crawl in, and then as likely as not he'll hit you over the head," returned Mrs. Parker, encouragingly; "and it's that dark you can't see nothing when you are in, so it's no sense to try, as I can see."
"Why on earth don't you nail the place up when he's out, so that he can't get in?" cried Claud, irritated beyond measure at her stupidity.
"Well, I can't say I ever thought o' that," naively admitted the poor woman.
"You are afraid Saul will take a chill if he stays there now?" interrogated Percivale.
"I'm dead certain he will, sir!"
"Very well, I'll go and fetch him out for you."
"It ain't a bit o' use, sir," she cried, eagerly, "he'll never stir for you. He's mortal feared o' strange folks."
"Never fear, I shall manage him," was the placid reply. "Give me a candle, will you?"
He took the light in his hand, and followed the woman through the gloomy back regions of the little cottage to the wood-shed, the doorway of which was, as she had stated, barricaded with logs, in a sort of arch, so that only the lower half of it was practicable.