heavy branches of the dark firs and larches that overhung the long
solitary lane between the Grange and Ragglesford, and fringed the park
palings with crystals. Harold thought how cold poor Paul must be going
on his way in his ragged clothes. The ice crackled under the pony's feet
as she trotted down Ragglesford Lane, and the water of the ford looked so
cold, that Peggy, a very wise animal, turned her head towards the foot-
bridge, a narrow and not very sound affair, over which Harold had
sometimes taken her when the stream was high, and threatened to be over
his feet.

Harold made no objection; but no sooner were all the pony's four hoofs
well upon the bridge, than at the other end appeared Dick Royston.

'Hollo, Har'ld!' was his greeting, 'I've got somewhat to say to ye.'

'D'ye know where Paul Blackthorn is?' asked Harold.

'Not I--I'm a traveller myself, you must know.'

'You, going to cut?' cried Harold.

'Ay,' said Dick, laying hold of the pony's rein. 'The police have been
down at Rolt's--stupid fellow left old gander's feet about--Mrs. Barker
swore to 'em 'cause he'd had so many kicks and bites on common--Jesse's
took up and peached--I've been hiding about all night--precious cold it
was, and just waiting, you see, to wish you good-bye.'

Harold, very much shocked, could have dispensed with his farewells, nor
did he like the look of his eyes.

'Thank you, Dick; I'm sorry--I didn't think--but I'm after time--I wish
you'd let go of Peggy.'

'So that's all you have to say to an old comrade!' said Dick; 'but, I
say, Har'ld, I'm not going so. I must have some tin to take me to
Portsmouth. I want to know what you've got in that there bag!'

'You won't have that; it's the post. Let go, Dick;' and he pushed the
pony forward, but Dick had got her fast by the head. Harold looked round
for help, but Ragglesford Lane was one of the loneliest places in the
country. There was not a house for half a mile, and Lady Jane's
plantations shut in the road on either side.

'I mean to have it,' said Dick, looking coolly up into his face; 'I mean
to see if there's any of the letters with a half-sovereign in 'em, that
you tell us about.'

'Dick, Dick, it would be robbing! For shame, Dick! What would become of
Mother and me?'

'That's your look-out,' said Dick; and he stretched out his hand for the
bag. He was four years older than Harold, and much stouter.

Harold, with a ready move, chucked the bag round to