to live together, work together, eat together,
and have mutual interests.

"I hope, Mr. Brattle," he said, "that you give Sam the full benefit
of his discharge."

"He'll get his vittles and his bed, and a trifle of wages if he works
for 'em."

"I didn't mean that. I'm quite sure you wouldn't see him want a
comfortable home, as long as you have one to give him."

"There ain't much comfort about it now."

"I was speaking of your own opinion of the deed that was done. My own
opinion is that Sam had nothing to do with it."

"I'm sure I can't say, Muster Fenwick."

"But it would be a comfort to you to think that he is innocent."

"I ain't no comfort in talking about it,--not at all,--and I'd
rayther not, if it's all one to you, Muster Fenwick."

"I will not ask another question, but I'll repeat my own opinion, Mr.
Brattle. I don't believe that he had anything more to do with the
robbery or the murder, than I had."

"I hope not, Muster Fenwick. Murder is a terrible crime. And now, if
you'll tell me how much it was you paid the lawyer at Heytesbury--"

"I cannot say as yet. It will be some trifle. You need not trouble
yourself about that."

"But I mean to pay 'un, Muster Fenwick. I can pay my way as yet,
though it's hard enough at times." The parson was obliged to promise
that Mr. Jones's bill of charges should be sent to him, and then he
called his wife, and they left the mill. Sam was still up among the
timbers, and had not once come down while the visitors were in the
cottage. Mrs. Fenwick had been more successful with the women than
the parson had been with the father. She had taken upon herself to
say that she thoroughly believed Sam to be innocent, and they had
thanked her with many protestations of gratitude.

They did not go back by the way they had come, but went up to the
road, which they crossed, and thence to some outlying cottages which
were not very far from Hampton Privets House. From these cottages
there was a path across the fields back to Bullhampton, which led by
the side of a small wood belonging to the Marquis. There was a good
deal of woodland just here, and this special copse, called Hampton
bushes, was known to be one of the best pheasant coverts in that part
of the country. Whom should they meet, standing on the path, armed
with his gun, and with his keeper behind him armed with another, than
the Marquis of Trowbridge himself. They had heard a shot or two, but
they had thought nothing