"Jes' so, Miss--he was put in as agent arter the Squire's death, and he's been 'ere ever since, bad luck to 'im! And he's been a-cuttin' down timber on the place whenever he's took a mind to, askin' no by- your-leaves, and none of us 'adn't no right to say a wurrd, he bein' master-like--but when it comes to the Five Sisters--why then we sez, if the Five Sisters lay low there's an end of the pride and prosperity of the village, an' Passon Walden he be main worrited about it, for he do love trees like as they were his own brothers, m'appen more'n brothers, for sometimes there's no love lost twixt the likes o' they, and beggin' your pardon, Miss, he sent me to ye with a message from hisself 'fore dinner, but you was a-lyin' down and couldn't be disturbed nohow, so I goes down to Spruce"--here Bainton indicated the silent Spruce with a jerk of his thumb--"he be the forester 'ere, under Mr. Leach's orders, as deaf as a post unless you 'ollers at him, but a good-meanin' man for all that--and I sez, 'Spruce, you and me 'ull go an' fetch old Josey Letherbarrow, and see if bein' the oldest 'n'abitant, as they sez in books, he can't get a wurrd with Miss Vancourt, and so 'ere we be, Miss, for the trees be chalked"--and he turned abruptly to Spruce and bellowed--"Baint the trees chalked for comin' down to-morrow marnin'? Speak fair!" Spruce heard, and at once gave a lucid statement. "By Mr. Leach's orders, Miss," he said, addressing Maryllia; "The five old beech-trees on the knoll, which the village folk call the 'Five Sisters,' are to be felled to-morrow marnin'. They've stood, so I'm told, an' so I b'lieve, two or three hundred years--" "And they're going to be cut down!" exclaimed Maryllia. "I never heard of such wickedness! How disgraceful!" Spruce saw by the movement of her lips that she was speaking, and therefore at once himself subsided into silence. Bainton again took up the parable. "He's nigh stone-deaf, Miss, so you'll 'scuse him if he don't open his mouth no more till we shouts at him--but what he sez is true enough. At six o'clock to-morrow marnin'--" Here Primmins entered with the port wine. "Primmins, where does the agent, Leach, live?" enquired Maryllia. "I really couldn't say, Miss. I'll ask--" "'Tain't no use askin'," said Bainton; "He lives a mile out of the village; but he ain't at 'ome nohow this evenin' bein' gone to Riversford town for a bit o' gamblin' at cards. Lor', Miss, beggin' yer pardon, gamblin' with the cards do get rid o' timber--it do reely now!" Maryllia took a glass of port wine from the tray which Primmins handed to her, and gave it herself to old Josey. Her mind had entirely grasped the situation, despite the prolix nature of Bainton's discourse. A group of historic old trees were to be felled by the agent's orders at six o'clock the next morning unless she prevented it. That was the sum total of the argument. And here was something for her to do, and she resolved to do it.