down there, and they have made the place so
tidy as it does your heart good to look at it. They bred up the young
ones, and the younger girl is well married to one of the Squire's
folks, and everyone respected them. But, as ill-luck would have it, some
robbers from Bristol seem to have got scent of their savings. Some said
that the Communion Cup was hid somewhere there."

Mr. Holworth made an anxious sound of interrogation.

"Well, I did see the corporal, when the Parliament soldiers were at
Bristol, flog Stead shamefully to know where it was, and never get a
word out of him, whether or no; and as he was a boy who would never tell
a lie, it stands to reason he knew where they were."

"But how did anyone guess at his knowing?" asked Mr. Holworth.

"His brother might have thought it likely, poor John being thick with
your reverence," said Blane. "After that I thought, myself, that he
ought to give them up to Master Woodley, if so be he had them; but I
could never get a hint from him. The talk went that old Dr. Eales, you
mind him, sir, before he died, came out and held a prelatist service,
begging your pardon, sir, and that the things were used. Stead got into
trouble with Squire about it."

"But the robbers, how was that? You said he was hurt!"

"Sore hurt, sir; and he has never got the better of it, though 'tis nigh
upon four years ago. There was a slip of a wench he picked up as a child
after the fight by Luck's mill, and bred up; a fair lass she grew up
to look on, but a light-headed one. She went to service at Bristol, and
poor Stead was troth plight to her, hoped to save and build up the house
again, never knowing, not he, poor rogue, of her goings on with the
sailors and all the roistering lads about her master's house. 'Tis my
belief she put those rascals on the track, whether she meant it or not.
Stead made what defence he could, stood up like a man against the odds,
three to one, and got a shot in the side, so that he was like to die
then. Better for him, mayhap, if he had at once, for it has been nought
but a lingering ever since, never able to do a day's work, though that
wench, Patience, and the young lad, Ben, have fought it out wonderfully.
That I will say."

Mr. Holworth had tears in his eyes, and trembled with emotion.

"The dear lad," he said. "Where is he? I must go and see him."

"He bides in the gulley, sir; he has been there ever since the
farm-house was burnt."

Ere long Mr. Holworth was