“Saw who?—saw what?” roared Tod, turning his anger upon Druff. “You mean to confess to me that you saw these rose-trees rifled, and did not stop it?”
“Nay, master,” said Druff, “how could I interfere with Tasker’s people? Their business ain’t mine.”
“Who are Tasker’s people?” foamed Tod. “Who is Tasker?”
“Tasker? Oh, Tasker’s that there man at the white cottage on t’other side the village. Got a big garden round it.”
“Is he a poacher? Is he a robber?”
“Bless ye, master, Tasker’s no robber.”
“And yet you saw him take my roses?”
“I see him for certain. I see him busy with the baskets as the men filled ’em.”
Dragging me after him, Tod went striding off to Tasker’s. We knew the man by sight; had once spoken to him about his garden. He was a kind of nurseryman. Tasker was standing near his greenhouse.
“Why did I come and steal your roses?” he quietly repeated, when he could understand Tod’s fierce demands. “I didn’t steal ’em, sir; I picked ’em.”