"I should certainly be sorry to have drowned you," said the squire—"very sorry."
"Enough—enough—I am content," cried Potts, holding out his hand, which Nicholas grasped with an energy that brought tears into the little man's eyes.
"I am glad the matter is amicably adjusted," observed Roger Nowell, "for I suspect both parties have been to blame. And I must now request you, Master Potts, to forego your search, and inquiries after witches, till such time as you have settled this question of the boundary line for me. One matter at a time, my good sir."
"But, Master Nowell," cried Potts, "my much esteemed and singular good client—"
"I will have no nay," interrupted Nowell, peremptorily.
"Hum!" muttered Potts; "I shall lose the best chance of distinction ever thrown in my way."
"I care not," said Nowell.
"Just as you came up, Master Nowell," observed Nicholas, "I was examining a plan of the disputed estates in Pendle Forest. It differs from yours, and, if correct, certainly substantiates Mistress Nutter's claim."
"I have mine with me," replied Nowell, producing a plan, and opening it. "We can compare the two, if you please. The line runs thus:—From the foot of Pendle Hill, beginning with Barley Booth, the boundary is marked by a stone wall, as far as certain fields in the occupation of John Ogden. Is it not so?"
"It is," replied Nicholas, comparing the statement with the other plan.