he left it the night before; but Sam had
not gone many yards on his way back, when whom should he meet but Mr
Jones, looking very clean and dapper, and most terribly important. He
scorned to take any notice of old Sam, but strode on his way till he
came to the potato piece, when he deliberately crossed the little dry
ditch, trod down the tiny hedge, and then sticking his nose up in the
air, as much as to say, "I'll teach old Inglis to stop up old tracks,"
he stamped along more pompously than ever, while Sam stopped by a turn
in the road and watched him with eyes that seemed fascinated, so eagerly
did they follow the old excise officer.

"Stamp--stamp," went the pompous little man; and "brog--brog," went his
stick in the soft earth. "He'll miss it," said Sam to himself, for Mr
Jones had apparently reached the centre of the field, and turned round
to look about him, walking backwards. "Dear, dear," said Sam, "if he
only would--"

"Plosh!" went Mr Jones right in backwards; and "spatter" went the foul
mud all over his face and shirt-front, and then the poor little man
tried to scramble out, but slipped in again, making himself worse than
ever; but his next effort was more successful; and when Sam saw him
standing amongst the potatoes looking all piebald, his heart was joyful
within him, as he hurried home to tell the boys the success of their
plot.

Mr Inglis very soon learned from the boys what was the cause of Mr
Jones's visit, and for the moment he felt rather disposed to be cross;
but on looking at the laughing eyes before him, and the mirthful
countenance of Mrs Inglis, he was obliged to join in the merriment
himself; for as Philip very sagely remarked,--"You know, papa, he had no
business there." As for Mr Jones, he was nearly red-hot with fury when
he reached home, for he had been laughed at by more than one person on
his way; so when the door was opened, and his pet dog--a disagreeable
terrier--came smelling about his legs, his master kicked him savagely,
upon which the dog retorted by sticking his teeth into his assailant's
leg, and then running off howling as loudly as he could.

Mr Jones then set to work and washed himself, a process of which he
stood greatly in need; and by the time he had made himself dapper again,
he felt cooler and more comfortable; and he also began to wish he had
not told Mr Inglis that he should hear from his solicitor. But he
_had_ told him to, and therefore he felt that he must