Notwithstanding this the people of Wavebury did not hold the memory of the Truslows in much veneration; they had been "a bad lot," it was rumoured, and the old manor-house, which still bore their name, was looked on with suspicion as a place which had possibly witnessed many a deed of darkness. But the days both of its wickedness and grandeur were now over, and it stood in the fields with a forlorn and deserted air, although its mullioned windows and panelled rooms and tall chimneys gave it a look of decayed dignity. One wing of it, however, had completely disappeared; at the back, which was near the road, it was hemmed in by mean sheds and outbuildings, and the front was approached, not by a stately avenue, but by a little wicket gate leading through a field without a footpath. Small and needy farmers had been its only tenants for years, but when Mr and Mrs Roy came to Wavebury they took a fancy to the old house, and arranged to hire five rooms in it. Terms being satisfactorily settled with Mr Shivers, their landlord, who with his wife continued to occupy the other part of the house, they took up their abode with much comfort and contentment, and, when Biddy arrived, had been living there for nearly two years. They were fond of Truslow Manor, and found only one little drawback to it, which, they were accustomed to say to each other, was hardly worth mentioning; for the present, therefore, we will not mention it either. Biddy looked out of her window with some curiosity the morning after her arrival; she wondered what she should see by daylight. Not much, but everything was in startling contrast to Buzley's Court. A field, a row of tall elms growing at the end of it, which cut off any further view; a flock of geese, a flock of turkeys, a little black donkey, a foal, and a rough pony--that was all. She afterwards discovered that there was a gate at the end of the field, and that a little sluggish river, called the Kennet, flowed along under the row of elms; a narrow footway crossed this, and led directly through the churchyard into the village, or if you liked to turn to the left, it brought you at last into the high-road at the back of Truslow Manor. In dark evenings this way into the village was not without its perils, for an unwary traveller might easily step over the edge of the path as he crossed the river and find himself in its muddy bed. Biddy soon knew this way to church very well; and amongst the many strange customs at Wavebury, she thought it curious that there should be two services every day, though the congregation was seldom more than two or three in number. "Whenever you like to go to church, Biddy," said her mistress, "I will always take the baby."