He was by this time thoroughly sick of Broxbridge, which he determined upon leaving forthwith. He had been jilted and derided by a girl to whom he had become attached, had been chastised by a young man, who evidently knew all about the Oakfield House burglary, which he had believed had been quite forgotten, and so there was every reason for his leaving the neighbourhood. On the following morning he packed up his traps, had them conveyed to the station, and bidding Brickett good-bye, with a promise to return in a few weeks’ time, he beat a retreat, and hastened up to the metropolis, to find therein a new scene of action. CHAPTER XXXVI. A YOUNG POACHER――THE INDIGNANT AGRICULTURIST. The name of the young man who came so opportunely to the rescue of Nelly was Philip Jamblin. The reader will doubtless remember the two visitors to Farmer Ashbrook’s house on the night of the burglary at Oakfield. These personages, Messrs. Cheadle and Jamblin, gave chase to Peace after his escape over the fields described in the opening chapters of this work. The Jamblins and Ashbrooks were old friends. Philip’s father was the owner of a large farm situated at about a couple of miles’ distance from Broxbridge; he held this under a lease from Lord Ethalwood. The place was known as Stoke Ferry Farm. Mr. Jamblin, senior, was a farmer of the old school, who had worked his way up in the world by dint of skill and industry. He it was who paid for the plentiful supply of beer to the occupants of the parlour of the “Carved Lion,” on the night when Peace first became acquainted with the establishment. Mr. Jamblin had in his service a ne’er to-do-well, wayward, good-for-nothing sort of lad, called Alfred Purvis, whose parentage was not clearly established. A gentleman of independent means, residing in the neighbourhood, had paid for his support during the earlier years of his childhood, and when he became old enough he had placed him with Mr. Jamblin to learn the farming business, if it can, with propriety, be so termed. But the lad Alfred was a sore trouble to the farmer. He was mischievously disposed, and was for ever getting into scrapes. As he is destined to play a secondary part in this drama, it will be necessay to introduce him to the reader. Some few days after Peace’s departure from Broxbridge, Mr. Jamblin became furious at a discovery he had made. He was striding up and down the great stone kitchen of Stoke Ferry Farm, with his arms swinging round his head like the sails of a windmill, and his face growing redder and redder every moment. He was a kindly-disposed man enough, and was greatly esteemed by his workpeople, but he did not like anything under-handed. His youngest daughter Patty was leaning against the table, and trying to pacify him as best she could. “Don’t lose your temper, father,” she murmured, in a soft low voice. “After all it’s only one, and surely that’s no great matter.”