ked at last. "Out with it, farver."

"It ain't nothing," said Mr. Beale.

"You ain't afraid those Talbots will know you again?"

"Not much I ain't. They never see my face; and I 'adn't a beard that
time like what I've got now."

"Well, then?" said Dickie.

"Well, if you must 'ave it," said Beale, "we're a-gettin' very near my
ole dad's place, and I can't make me mind up."

"I thought we was settled we'd go to see 'im."

"I dunno. If 'e's under the daisies I shan't like it--I tell you
straight I shan't like it. But we're a long-lived stock--p'raps 'e's all
right. I dunno."

"Shall I go up by myself to where he lives and see if he's all right?"

"Not much," said Mr. Beale; "if I goes I goes, and if I stays away I
stays away. It's just the not being able to make me mind up."

"If he's there," said Dickie, "don't you think you _ought_ to go, just
on the chance of him being there and wanting you?"

"If you come to oughts," said Beale, "I oughter gone 'ome any time this
twenty year. Only I ain't. See?"

"Well," said Dickie, "it's your lookout. I know what I should do if it
was me."

Remembrance showed him the father who had leaned on his shoulder as they
walked about the winding walks of the pleasant garden in old
Deptford--the father who had given him the little horse, and insisted
that his twenty gold pieces should be spent as he chose.

"I dunno," said Beale. "What you think? Eh, matey?"

"I think _let's_," said Dickie. "I lay if he's alive it 'ud be as good
as three Sundays in the week to him to see you. You was his little boy
once, wasn't you?"

"Ay," said Beale; "he was wagoner's mate to one of Lord Arden's men. 'E
used to ride me on the big cart-horses. 'E was a fine set-up chap."

To hear the name of Arden on Beale's lips gave Dickie a very odd,
half-pleasant, half-frightened feeling. It seemed to bring certain
things very near.

"Let's," he said again.

"All right," said Beale, "only if it all goes wrong it ain't my
fault--an' there used to be a foot-path a bit further on. You cut
through the copse and cater across the eleven-acre medder, and bear
along to the left by the hedge an' it brings you out under Arden Knoll,
where my old man's place is."

So they cut and catered and bore along, and came out under Arden Knoll,
and there was a cottage, with a very neat garden full of gay flowers,
and a brick pathway leading from the wooden gate to the front door. And
by the front door sat an old man