“Nonsense!” said the Squire, whilst I and Tod kept our faces. “We have not had thieves here, man.”
“But, ’deed, and the things be gone, Squire. Clean gone! Not so much as a shred on ’em left! Please come and see for yourself, sir.”
He turned, and went striding across the yard. The Squire followed, evidently at fault for comprehension; and the rest of us after him.
“It’s a mercy as the horses and waggons bain’t took!” cried Mack, plunging into the barn. “And the harness! look at it, a-hanging up; and that there wheelbarrer——”
“But what do you say is taken, Mack?” interrupted the Squire, cutting him short, and looking round the barn.
“All my traps, sir. My best smock-frock; and my boots, and my spotted cotton neck-handkecher. A beautiful pair o’ boots, Squire, that I generally keeps here, in case I be sent off to Alcester, or Evesham, or where not, and have to tidy myself up a bit.”
Tod backed out of the barn doubled up. Nearly choking at the “beautiful” boots.
“But why do you think they are stolen, Mack?” the Squire was asking.
“I left ’em safe here o’ Saturday evening, sir, when I locked up the barn. The things be all gone now; you may see as they be, Squire. There bain’t a vestige of ’em.”
“Have any of the men moved them?”