"Joel Ford's biding with his sister. A wonderful deep man, to my certain knowledge, an' wears a merchant-like coat an' shiny hat working days an' Sabbaths alike. A snug man, I'll wager, if 't is awnly by the token of broadcloth on week-days." "He looks for all the world like a yellow, shrivelled parchment himself. Regular gimlet eyes, too, and a very fitch for sharpness, though younger than his appearance might make you fancy," said the miller. "Then I'll pay him a visit and see how things stand," declared John. "Not that I'd employ any but my own London lawyer, of course," he added, "but this old chap can give me the information I require; no doubt." "Ess fay! an' draw you a dockyment in all the cautiousness of the law's language," promised Billy Blee. "'T is a fact makes me mazed every time I think of it," he continued, "that mere fleeting ink on the skin tored off a calf can be so set out to last to the trump of doom. Theer be parchments that laugh at the Queen's awn Privy Council and make the Court of Parliament look a mere fule afore 'em. But it doan't do to be 'feared o' far-reachin' oaths when you 'm signing such a matter, for 't is in the essence of 'em that the parties should swear deep." "I'll mind what you say, Billy," promised Grimbal; "I'll pump old Ford as dry as I can, then be off to London and get such a good, binding deed of purchase as you suggest." And it was this determination that presently led to a violent breach between the young man and his elder. John waited upon Mr. Ford, at Mrs. Blanchard's cottage, where he had first lodged with his brother on their return from abroad, and found the lawyer exceedingly pleasant when he learned the object of Grimbal's visit. Together they drove over to the Red House, and its intending tenant soon heard all there was to tell respecting price and the provisions under which the estate was to be disposed of. For this information he expressed proper gratitude, but gave no hint of his future actions. Mr. Ford heard nothing more for a fortnight. Then he ascertained that John Grimbal was in the metropolis, that the sale of the Red House and its lands had been conducted by the London agent, and that no penny of the handsome commission involved would accrue to him. This position of affairs greatly (and to some extent reasonably) angered the local man, and he did not forgive what he considered a very flagrant slight. Extreme acerbity was bred in him, and his mind, vindictive by nature, cherished from that hour a hearty detestation of John Grimbal. The old man, his annual holiday ruined by the circumstance, went home to Newton, vowing vague vengeance and little dreaming how soon opportunity would offer to deal his enemy a return blow; while the purchaser of the Red House laughed at Ford's angry letters, told him to his face that he was a greedy old rascal, and went on his way well pleased with himself and fully occupied with his affairs.