last swath, and there were only a
few more rucks of the early hay to be made in the field, Cubbin, the
rural constable, came in from the highroad with Andrew, the smith. The
hot and sweated mowers did not stop the swing of their scythes, but they
talked loudly amongst themselves in imprecations against the new law
which made it a criminal offence for a lad to take a few gull's eggs,
which they, and their fathers before them, had gone sporting after in
the good old times when men did what they thought right.

The bronzed face of Deborah Shimmin paled, her lips set into a resolve
of courage when she saw Andrew in the hands of the police; and I learnt
for the first time that Andrew was looked upon as the robber and Deborah
as the receiver of the stolen eggs. I saw more than this, I saw, by one
look, that the heart of Deborah and the heart of the tall, lithe lad,
who now stood before me, were as one heart in love and in determination
to stand by each other in the coming trial.

The big hands of the young smith were thrust into his pockets, and a
smile played over his honest face; but Deborah looked at the constable
with a hard, defiant look, and then bent over her work again as if
waiting to hear him say something dreadful which she was resolved to
throw back into his face, though her hand trembled as she held the fork,
which moved now faster and stronger than before.

But Cubbin was a man of the gospel of peace though he was an officer of
the law, and he only looked sadly on the face of Deborah as he asked her
whether it would not be better for her to say where she got her supply
of eggs from than allow him to get a summons against Andrew.

"I have told you before that Andrew never gave me the eggs!" cried the
girl, her face flushed with the crimson setting of the sun, "and I don't
know where they came from. I can't say anything different, and I wish
you would not trouble me, Mr. Cubbin!"

Fred and I called Cubbin, the constable, to one side, and asked him to
allow us a day or two to solve the mystery of the eggs--a little
arrangement which may seem strange to dwellers in towns, but which was
quite practicable at this time in this far-off place, and which he soon
agreed to allow.

I had been out shooting corncrakes that day, and Fred Harcourt had come
with me for a day in the meadows, as his brush and palette had wearied
him of late, and he longed to stretch his limbs and to see my spaniels
work in the weedy hedges