et me go and fetch it! I Will!"

The boys struggled together, and Sir Austin stepped back. As he did so,
a cry was heard in the passage. He hurried out, closed the chamber, and
came upon little Clare lying senseless along the door.

CHAPTER V

In the morning that followed this night, great gossip was interchanged
between Raynham and Lobourne. The village told how Farmer Blaize, of
Belthorpe Farm, had his Pick feloniously set fire to; his stables had
caught fire, himself had been all but roasted alive in the attempt to
rescue his cattle, of which numbers had perished in the flames. Raynham
counterbalanced arson with an authentic ghost seen by Miss Clare in the
left wing of the Abbey--the ghost of a lady, dressed in deep mourning, a
scar on her forehead and a bloody handkerchief at her breast, frightful
to behold! and no wonder the child was frightened out of her wits, and
lay in a desperate state awaiting the arrival of the London doctors. It
was added that the servants had all threatened to leave in a body, and
that Sir Austin to appease them had promised to pull down the entire
left wing, like a gentleman; for no decent creature, said Lobourne,
could consent to live in a haunted house.

Rumour for the nonce had a stronger spice of truth than usual. Poor
little Clare lay ill, and the calamity that had befallen Farmer Blaize,
as regards his rick, was not much exaggerated. Sir Austin caused an
account of it be given him at breakfast, and appeared so scrupulously
anxious to hear the exact extent of injury sustained by the farmer that
heavy Benson went down to inspect the scene. Mr. Benson returned, and,
acting under Adrian's malicious advice, framed a formal report of the
catastrophe, in which the farmer's breeches figured, and certain cooling
applications to a part of the farmer's person. Sir Austin perused it
without a smile. He took occasion to have it read out before the two
boys, who listened very demurely, as to ordinary newspaper incident;
only when the report particularized the garments damaged, and the
unwonted distressing position Farmer Blaize was reduced to in his bed,
indecorous fit of sneezing laid hold of Master Ripton Thompson, and
Richard bit his lip and burst into loud laughter, Ripton joining him,
lost to consequences.

"I trust you feel for this poor man," said Sir Austin to his son,
somewhat sternly. He saw no sign of feeling.

It was a difficult task for Sir Austin to keep his old countena