ank, meanwhile scanning
the horse and forming his opinion of this member of the equine
genus. Here is his judgment: "A famous trotter! a spirited
steed!--indeed!--an old nag not worth half-a-guinea."

"What job?" said Jacques.

"Working about here, I mean, working for Mr. Rougeant."

"Well, ye-yes, but you've got to know how to tackle the guv'nor;
he's a quair sort. I've worked for the Rougeants for forty-two
years, and the old fellow's never given me more than my day's
wage." Then he added in an undertone, "He's a reg'lar miser, he's
got some tin! They say he's worth four hundred quarters."

Four hundred pounds income, was to old Jacques a large fortune.

"Ah," he went on, "if only I had four hundred pounds capital, with
the little that I have scraped together, I would not trouble to work
any more, I would have enough for the rest of my days. We live on
thirty pounds a year, me and my old missus.

"We're not allu's feastin', you see; besides, the house we live in
is ours. Built with my savin's when I married, it was----"

"Mrs. Rougeant is dead, is she not?" questioned Frank, anxious to
learn more about the family.

"Dead! o' course she's dead," said Jacques, "she's been dead now
for--let me see--twelve--thirteen--fourteen years!--her daughter was
about four years old then."

"So Miss Rougeant is now eighteen."

"Yes, Sir, an' a fine girl she is,"--this was said with a wink and a
nod.

"She seems to have been very well educated," said Frank.

"I should think so," said the labourer, opening his eyes wide. "Why,
bless you, Sir, she's been at a boarding-school all her life; she
only came to live here last year, after having been absent for
nearly ten years. I bet she don't get on too well with the guv'nor,
he's such an old feller for brass. She's a good 'un, too; now and
then she goes to see my old missus, and she isn't partic'lar about
givin' my daughter's mites a tanner, although I'll lay ten to one
she's not allowed too much. And her flowers; have you seen 'em? Why
there's not many a gardener as 'u'd arrange 'em in sich a bloomin'
style."

"Has Mr. Rougeant always been the sort of man that he is now?"
inquired Frank.

"No, not when the lady was alive; I s'pose it was her as made him
spend some money on improvements. The year before she died, he took
off the thatched roofs and put slate instead, then he built that
there little conservatory, but as soon as she was gone, he began to
pinch and screw; wh