Tod stood by in dudgeon; he was angry with them for not having believed him at first. "I think we may grant a search-warrant, Squire," said Mr. Brandon. "And send old Jones the constable, to execute it," assented the Squire. Tod flung back his head. "Old Jones! Much use he'd be! Why, father, Eunice Gibbon alone could settle old Jones with his shaky legs. She'd pitch him out at the first window." "Jones can take help, Joe." * * * * * It was the breakfast hour at the Torr, eight o'clock. The meal was being taken in the kitchen. Less semblance of gentility than even in the former days was kept up; all usages of comfort and refinement had departed with old Mr. Radcliffe and Selina. Stephen was swallowing his eggs and rashers of bacon quickly. Tuesday is Alcester market-day, and he was going in to attend it, expecting to sell some of his newly-gathered crop of hay. Mrs. Stephen sat opposite him, eating bacon also; and Eunice Gibbon stood at the dresser, mixing some meal for the fattening of fowls. Miserly though Stephen was by nature, he liked a good table, and took care to have it. "Could you bring some starch home, master?" asked Eunice, turning her head round to speak. "Why can't you get your starch here?" retorted Stephen. "Well, it's a farthing less a pound at Alcester than it is at Church Dykely," said Eunice. "They've rose it here." Farthings were farthings in Stephen's eyes, and he supposed he might as well bring the starch. "How much is wanted of it?" he growled. "We'd better have a pound," interposed Becca. "Half pounds don't get the benefit of the farthing: you can't split a farthing in two. Shall you be home early?" she continued to her husband. "Don't know. Not afore afternoon." "Because we shall want some of the starch to-day. There's none to go on with, is there, Eunice?" "Yes, there's a bit. I can make it do." "You'll have to wait till you get it," remarked Stephen as he pushed his plate away and rose from table. "And mind you don't forget to give the pigs their dinner." "What'll be wanted up there to-day?" inquired Becca, pointing towards some invisible place over-head, possibly intending to indicate the tower. "Nothing but dinner," said Stephen. "What should there be? I shall be back afore tea-time." He went out at the back-door as he spoke, gave a keen look or two around his yard and premises generally, to see that all was right, and presently trotted away on horseback. A few minutes later, Jim, the only regular man kept, was seen to cross the yard towards the lane with the horse and cart. "Where be you off to, Jim?" demanded Becca, stalking to the door and speaking at the top of her voice. "Master ordered me to go after that load o' manure," called back Jim, standing upright in the cart and arresting the horse for a moment. "What, this morning?" "It's what he telled me."