rector.

"Yes, sir, directly," cried Distin; and then haughtily, "Do you want to
ask me any more questions, constable?"

"No, sir, thankye; that will do."

"Then, good-morning."

Distin walked away with his head up, and a nonchalant expression on his
countenance, leaving the constable looking after him.

"Want to ask me any more questions, constable," he said, mimicking
Distin's manner. "Then good-morning."

He stood frowning for a few minutes, and nodded his head decisively.

"Well," he said, "you're a gentleman, I suppose, and quite a scholard,
or you wouldn't be at parson's, but if you aren't about as artful as
they make 'em, I'm as thick-headed as a beetle. Poor lad! Only a sort
o' foreigner, I suppose. What a blessing it is to be born a solid
Englishman. Not as I've got a word again your Irishman and Scotchman,
or your Welsh, if it comes to that, but what can you expect of a lad
born out in a hot climate that aren't good for nobody but blacks?"

He took a piece of string out of his pocket, and very carefully tied the
trowel and pieces of broken stick together as firmly as if they were to
be despatched on a long journey. Then he opened the basket, peeped in,
and frowned at the truffles, closed it up and went out.

"Any of you as likes can go in now," he said, and shaking his head
solemnly as questions began to pour upon him from all sides respecting
the stick and basket, he strode off with his colleague in the direction
of the town, gaining soon upon the rector, who was too tired and faint
to walk fast, for it was not his habit to pass the night out of bed, and
take a walk of some hours' duration at early dawn.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

BATES IS OBSTINATE.

Gilmore reached the Little Manor to find Aunt Hannah ready to hurry out
and meet him, and he shrank from giving his tidings, fearing that it
would be a terrible shock.

But he could keep nothing back with those clear, trusting eyes fixed
upon him, and he gave his message.

"You would not deceive me, Mr Gilmore?" she said. "You are sure that
he is only badly hurt; the doctor--my husband--hasn't sent you on to
soften worse news to come?"

"Indeed no," cried Gilmore warmly. "Don't think that. He is very bad.
It is not worse."

Aunt Hannah closed her eyes, and he saw her lips move for a few moments.
He could not hear the words she spoke, but he took off his hat, and
bent his head till she laid her hand upon his arm.

"Thank God!" she s