he
fen say it will ruin them."

"Ruin! Nonsense!" cried the squire. "They'll have plenty of good land
to grow potatoes, and oats, instead of water, which produces them a
precarious living from wild-fowl and fish, and ruins no end of them with
rheumatism and fever."

"Yes, but--"

"But what, man? The fen-men who don't cultivate the soil are very few
compared to those who do, and the case is this. The fen-land is growing
about here, and good land being swallowed up by the water. Five acres
of my farm, which used to be firm and dry, have in my time become
water-logged and useless. Now, are the few to give way to the many, or
the many to give way to the few?"

"Well, squire, the few think we ought to give way to them."

"Then we will not," said the squire hotly; "and if they don't know
what's for their good, they must be taught. You know how they will
stick to old things and refuse to see how they can be improved."

"Ay, it's their nature, I suppose. All I want is peace and quietness."

"And you'll have it. Let them threaten. The law is on our side. They
will not dare."

"I don't know," said Farmer Tallington, scratching his head as they
walked out into the home close. "You see, squire, it wean't be open
enemies we shall have to fear--"

"The Winthorpes never feared their enemies since they settled in these
parts in the days of King Alfred," said Dick grandly.

"Hear, hear, Dick!" cried his father, laughing.

"No more did the Tallingtons," said Tom, plucking up, so as not to be
behindhand.

"Nay, Tom, my lad," said the farmer, "Tallingtons was never fighting
men. Well, squire, I thought I'd warn you."

"Of course, of course, neighbour. But look here, whoever sent you that
cowardly bit of scribble thought that because you lived out here in this
lonely place you would be easily frightened. Look here," he continued,
taking a scrap of dirty paper out of his old pocket-book; "that bit of
rubbish was stuck on one of the tines of a hay-fork, and the shaft
driven into the ground in front of my door. I said nothing about it to
you, but you see I've been threatened too."

He handed the paper to Farmer Tallington, who read it slowly and passed
it back.

"Same man writ both, I should say."

"So should I--a rascal!" said the squire. "Here, Dick, don't say a word
to your mother; it may alarm her."

"No, father, I sha'n't say anything; but--"

"But what? Speak out."

"May I read it--and Tom?" he