an, whose untended grey hair hung in ragged
locks about her cheeks, and whose hooked nose and prominent chin gave
her quite the aspect of some old witch as fancied by an artist for a
book.

"Do you hear, Pete, who's this?" she cried again, before the lad could
answer. "What does he want?"

"Says that old iron screw's his, granny."

"What, that?" cried the old woman, making a snatch with her thin
long-nailed finger at the piece of iron Tom held as far as he could from
his adversary.

She was more successful than the lad had been, for she obtained
possession of it, and hurriedly thrust it into some receptacle hidden by
the folds of her dirty tea-leaf-coloured dress.

"Mine!" she cried, "mine! Who is he? Want to steal it?"

"Yes. D'yer hear? Be off out of our place, or I'll soon let you know."

"I shall not go," cried Tom, who was now bubbling over with excitement.
"You stole the iron from our place--from the mill last night."

The old woman turned upon him furiously.

"The mill," she cried; "who pulled the poor old mill down, and robbed
poor people of their meal? No corn, no flour. I know who you are now.
You belong to him yonder. I know you. Cursed all of you. I know him,
with his wicked ways and sins and doings. Go away--go away!"

She raised her hands threateningly, after setting down the kettle; and
Tom shrank back in dismay from an adversary with whom he could not cope.

"Not till he brings out the iron he came and stole," cried Tom.

"Stole?--who stole? What yer mean?" cried the lad. "Here, let me get
at him, granny. He ain't coming calling people stealers here, is he?
It's your bit o' iron, ain't it?"

"Yes, mine--mine," cried the old woman; "send him away--send him away
before I put a look upon him as he'll never lose."

"D'yer hear? you'd better be off!" cried the lad; and, completely
beaten, Tom shrank away, the old woman following him up, with her lips
moving rapidly, her fingers gesticulating, and a look in her fiercely
wild eyes that was startling. He was ready in his excitement to renew
his struggle with the lad, in spite of a disparity of years and size;
but the old woman was too much, and he did not breathe freely till he
was some distance away from the cottages, and on his way back to
Heatherleigh.

The first person he encountered was his uncle, who was down the garden
ready to greet him with--

"Morning, Tom, lad; I'm afraid you were right about the iron."

"Yes, uncle