Stubbard began firing from his battery. What have I done, or my peaceful
flock, that a noisy set of guns should be set up amidst us? However, I
showed Juniper that he had a master, though I shall find it hard to
come down-stairs tomorrow. Well, the next thing was that I saw James
Cheeseman, Church-warden Cheeseman, Buttery Cheeseman, as the bad boys
call him, in the lane, in front of me not more than thirty yards, as
plainly as I now have the pleasure of seeing you, Maria; and while I
said 'kuck' to the pony, he was gone! I particularly wished to speak to
Cheeseman, to ask him some questions about things I have observed, and
especially his sad neglect of public worship--a most shameful example
on the part of a church-warden--and I was thinking how to put it,
affectionately yet firmly, when, to my great surprise, there was no
Cheeseman to receive it! I called at his house on my return, about three
hours afterwards, having made up my mind to have it out with him, when
they positively told me--or at least Polly Cheeseman did--that I must be
mistaken about her 'dear papa,' because he was gone in the pony-shay all
the way to Uckfield, and would not be back till night."

"The nasty little story-teller!" Mrs. Twemlow cried. "But I am not at
all surprised at it, when I saw how she had got her hair done up, last
Sunday."

"No; Polly believed it. I am quite sure of that. But what I want to tell
you is much stranger and more important, though it cannot have anything
at all to do with Cheeseman. You know, I told you I was going for a good
long ride; but I did not tell you where, because I knew that you would
try to stop me. But the fact was that I had made up my mind to see what
Caryl Carne is at, among his owls and ivy. You remember the last time
I went to the old place I knocked till I was tired, but could get no
answer, and the window was stopped with some rusty old spiked railings,
where we used to be able to get in at the side. All the others are out
of reach, as you know well; and being of a yielding nature, I came
sadly home. And at that time I still had some faith in your friend Mrs.
Stubbard, who promised to find out all about him, by means of Widow
Shanks and the Dimity-parlour. But nothing has come of that. Poor Mrs.
Stubbard is almost as stupid as her husband; and as for Widow Shanks--I
am quite sure, Maria, if your nephew were plotting the overthrow of
King, Church, and Government, that deluded woman would not listen