The Parson O' Dumford

“We ave bin spekkin yu hat the krikt fele Ude betr cum.”

“2 OLE FRENDS.”

“You had better come!” What should he do? Set them at defiance or go away at once?

Torn by doubts he could do neither, but stood hesitating, till, in a fit of desperation, he strode off in the direction of the cricket-field.

He had saved a little money, and he might perhaps bribe them to take it and go, leaving him in peace, though he felt the while that such a proceeding would only be an invitation to them to come back, and demand more; but even if they did, a fortnight’s respite was worth all he possessed; and, besides, it would give him time to turn round and devise some plan for freeing himself of his incubus.

To reach the cricket-field he had to pass the back-door of the vicarage; taking, as he did, the cut through the fields; and as he neared it, separated from it by a high hedge, his blood turned cold as he heard Mrs Slee’s shrill voice exclaim:

“You can’t miss it: the second tunning to the right, and then it’s the second field.”

“And you wean’t buy the bud then, mum – that theer goldfinch as I told you off?”

“Bird, no,” cried Mrs Slee; “what do I want with such clat. Let the poor thing go. You ought to be ashamed of yoursens.”

“We just about are,” said one of the men: and then, as John Maine remained breathless behind the hedge, he heard the grating of feet upon the gravel, and one said to the other:

“Say, Jem, lad, did you see?” and he made a smacking noise with his lips.

“I see,” replied Jem, “everythink.” Then, “If that theer Johnny Maine don’t show up, we’ll precious soon have the owd badger out of his earth.”

John Maine shrank back with a cloud of thoughts hurrying through his brain, foremost among which was that these men had been spying up at the vicarage. Through any window there could be seen the valuable plate on the sideboard and shelves, and the plan of offering a bird for sale was but an excuse for getting up to a house – a plan which he knew of old.

For a few moments he felt disposed to turn back; then he was for facing them boldly: but all doubts were set at rest by footsteps coming in his direction; so, stepping out boldly, he was soon after face to face with his two old companions, who seemed to be strolling about with their hands in their pockets, enjoying an evening pipe.

“Here he is!” exclaimed Ike, grinning; “I knew he’d come. But howd your noise, Jem; don’t make a row. Johnny don’t care about being seen too much along of us. It’s all raight. He knows a thing or two. There’ll be a bit of a game on soon, lad, and we shall want you. We don’t know one another, we don’t. Now, which is the gainest way to the cricket-field?”

John Maine pointed in the direction, and Jem came close up with a leer, saying:

“Say, lad, recklect that plate job, eh? Melted down at Birmingham or Sheffle, an’ no questions asked.”

John Maine shuddered as he recalled the time when he was innocently made the bearer of a heavy package to a bullion melter, and told afterwards whence the silver had been obtained.

Before he had recovered himself, the two scoundrels had sauntered away, leaving him shivering, as he thought over their words, and understood them as a threat of denunciation, unless he kept his own counsel.

Then, in imagination, he saw a party drive over from one of the big towns in a light spring-cart, drawn by a weedy screw of a horse; an entry made at the vicarage, and everything of value swept away, while he was helpless to arrest the robbery, except at the cost of his worldly position.

He stood thinking for a time, and then strode on across the fields to the cricket ground, where a little half-hearted play was going on, the men of Dumford being too much influenced by the strike to care much for any thing save their tobacco. He caught sight of the two men once or twice; but they took not the slightest heed of his presence, and instead of their watching him he watched them, following them at last into the town, and seeing them go along the main street past the Glaires’ house, and away up the hill, Richard coming down and passing them.

“Can they be going right away?” thought John Maine hopefully, till he recollected a low, poacher-haunted public-house about a mile beyond the chalk pit, and rightly set that down as their destination.

He turned back with a sigh, to see Tom Podmore leaning thoughtfully against one of the houses, and going up, the two young men engaged in conversation for a few minutes, each rigorously abstaining from all mention of the other’s love affairs, and soon after they parted, for John Maine to seek his sleepless pillow.

Volume Two – Chapter Nine.

Lost

There was no newspaper in Dumford, only those which came from Ramford and Lindum, but news flew quite fast enough without, and by breakfast-time on the morning of the day following the events spoken of in the past chapter, it was known that Daisy Banks had not been home all night.

Joe Banks himself spread the news by going and making inquiries in all directions directly he was up.

For, on waking about half-past five, according to his regular custom, and jumping out of bed to dress and go into his garden, as he had no work, he found to his astonishment that his wife had not been to bed; and she now came to him, crying bitterly, to say that she had been sitting up all night waiting for Daisy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he roared.

“I wanted to screen her, Joe,” moaned Mrs Banks. “I thought you’d be so popped with the poor girl; and though I didn’t like her goings on, I didn’t want her to be scolded.”

“What time did she go out?” said Joe, trying to recall the past night.

“About eight, and I expected her back every minute after ten.”

“Here, give me my hat,” cried Joe; and he was off to the main street, where, in answer to inquiries, he found that Daisy had been seen in the High Street soon after eight.

“What’s wrong?” said Tom Podmore, coming out of his house.

“Daisy! hev you seen my Daisy?” said Joe, furiously.

“Yes, I see her go up the street last night at about eight,” said Tom, “as if going up the hill by the chalk pit.”

“Did you folly her?”

“No,” said Tom, sadly; “I never folly her now. But what’s it mean – isn’t she at home?”

“No,” said Joe, sharply. “She’s not been at home all night. Wheer can she be?”

“Better ask Master Dick Glaire,” said Tom, uttering a groan. “He can tell ye.”

“Howd thee tongue, thee silly fool,” cried Joe, angrily. “How should he know owt about where she is? Here, come along. I’ll soon show thee thou’rt wrong.”

He led the way to the Big House, where one of the maids was just opening the shutters; and, on being beckoned to, she came to the door.

“Where’s Master Richard?” said Joe.

“Fast asleep in bed,” said the girl.

“Art sure?” said Joe.

“Yes, certain,” said the girl.

“Was he out last night?”

“Yes,” said the girl; “but he came home early, and then went out for a bit; but he was in very soon, and sat up to let missus in, while I went to bed.”

“What time will he be up?” said Joe.

“Not before nine,” said the girl. “Shall I tell him you want him?”