s arl the better for they,"
said Goodwyn, calmly.

"Then charge 'em accardin', Mr. Landlord, charge 'em accardin',
zays I. Warter doan't cost 'ee nart, du 'un?" said Happy Jack,
triumphantly.

"'Ere be the doctor goin' on in's trap, while yu du be tarking zo,"
said the ploughman. "Lard, he du be a vast goer, be Joe Blundell."

"I drove zo vast as that, and vaster, when I kip a harse," said the
road-mender, jealously. "'Ee be a young man, not turned vifty. I mind
his vather and mother down tu Cullacott befar they was wed. Why doan't
he go tu the war, that's what I zay?"

"Sir Timothy doan't hold wi' the war," said the landlord.

"Mar shame vor 'un," said Happy Jack. "But me and Zur Timothy, us
made up our minds tu differ long ago. I'm arl vor vighting
vurriners--Turks, Rooshans, Vrinchmen; 'tis arl one tu I."

"Why doan't 'ee volunteer thyself, Vather Jack? Thee baint turned
nointy yit, be 'ee?" said a labourer, winking heavily, to convey to
the audience that the suggestion was a humorous one.

"Ah, zo I wude, and shute Boers wi' the best on 'un. But the
Governmint baint got the zince tu ax me," said Happy Jack, chuckling.
"The young volk baint nigh zo knowing as I du be. Old Kruger wuden't
ha' tuke in I, try as 'un wude. I be zo witty as iver I can be."

Dr. Blundell saluted the group before the inn as he turned his horse
to climb the steep road to Barracombe.

No breath of wind stirred, and the smoke from the cottage chimneys was
lying low in the valley, hovering over the river in the still air.

A few primroses peeped out of sheltered corners under the hedge, and
held out a timid promise of spring. The doctor followed the red road
which wound between Sir Timothy's carefully enclosed plantations of
young larch, passed the lodge gates, which were badly in need of
repair, and entered the drive.

CHAPTER II

The justice-room was a small apartment in the older portion of
Barracombe House; the low windows were heavily latticed, and faced
west.

Sir Timothy sat before his writing-table, which was heaped with
papers, directories, and maps; but he could no longer see to read or
write. He made a stiff pretence of rising to greet the doctor as he
entered, and then resumed his elbow-chair.

The rapidly failing daylight showed a large elderly, rather pompous
gentleman, with a bald head, grizzled whiskers, and heavy plebeian
features.

His face was smooth and unwrinkled, as the faces of prosperous and
s