“The inn has been rebuilt. They call it a hotel now.” “I daresay they does.” “The insurance money did that.” “I s’pose so. Lucky the house wor insured. I wish Varmer Pooke ’ad been.” “You do?” “I reckon I does. I’m sorry for what I did when I wor in a b’ilin’ blue rage. Now I can’t get over it noways, and you may tell’n so.” “Why, that fire was the making of the landlord. He feels no ill-will against the tramp. What are you going to do with yourself now?” “I don’t know.” “I suppose you will want to see your wife again?” “I s’pose I shall.” “For that you will return to Coombe?” “In coorse I must.” “At night—lest you should be seen?” “Ay—to be sure.” “You will lurk about—be in hiding. I’ll tell you what, I’m your good friend. I will do you no harm. I’ll just leave the door of my stores open—unhasped; and if you want to creep in, there’s a lot of wool and other things there, you can be warm there, Roger, warm in the wool.” “Thanky’, sir. You’ll not peach?” “And if—if you like a pipe—well”— “No, Mr. Pepperill, I won’t do you that ill turn if you’re so good to me—and the little maid, Kitty, too.” “Oh, I did not mean that. I can’t say but if a spark chanced to fall among the wool, and the whole was to blaze away, I should be sorry. I can’t say that I should be troubled, any more than was the landlord at Newton when the tramp set fire to his linhay over the pigs.” Redmore said nothing. Pepperill spoke slowly, and did not look the man in the face as he spoke. “If that chance was to happen to me as happened to the man at Newton, it might, there’s no saying, be a saving of me from a great misfortune, and—I shouldn’t mind being a liberal friend, and helping you out of the country.” “That is what you mean, is it?” “It might be a convenience to both of us.” “’Tis a wonderful world,” exclaimed Redmore, “when the biggest rascals go free, and one of them be you! A little rascal like me, who’s sorry that ever he done wrong, is chivied like a mad dog.” “Well—what do you say?” “You’re a rascal and I despise you,” cried Roger, and turned to go. “Will you have me as your friend or your enemy?” “Your enemy rather than friend on them terms.” “Then I’ll hang you!” exclaimed Pasco, and set off running in the direction of Brimpts. CHAPTER XXII A RACE FOR LIFE Kate had walked away without a thought of attempting to gather the subject of her uncle’s conversation with Redmore. She resolved at once to seek her father and obtain from him permission to house the unfortunate wife with her children in his cottage. She had been told that he had gone to a farm lying somewhat to the right of the Ashburton road, near the prominent and stately rock citadel of Sharpitor. She therefore ascended the long, steep hill, up which scrambles the high road from Dart-meet.