Tom was not prepared for this line of rejoinder. It seemed to be made with perfect innocence, and yet it put him in a corner at once. He did not care to inquire into the reason of Harry's surprise, or to what work he alluded; so he went off on another tack.
“Let us walk up and down a bit to dry ourselves. Now, Harry, you'll speak to me openly, man to man, as an old friend should—won't you?”
“Ay, Master Tom, and glad to do it.”
“How long have you taken to poaching?”
“Since last Michaelmas, when they turned me out o' our cottage, and tuk away my bit o' land, and did all as they could to break me down.”
“Who do you mean?”
“Why, Squire Wurley as was then—not this one, but the last—and his lawyer, and Farmer Tester.”
“Then it was through spite to them that you took to it?”
“Nay, 'twarn't altogether spite, tho' I won't say but what I might ha' thought o' bein' upsides wi them.”
“What was it then besides spite?”