"You'll only go through one at a time, and you'll each pay, or I'll know the reason why. I've never found that last cove 'as any money along with him," retaliates Pillings; and there he will stand taking each man's money and fumbling about for the change, till all the luckless ones are through and the hounds are well out of sight and hearing. Then "Sulky" will retire to his den with a chuckle and put away the money, muttering to himself: "Last chap 'ull pay! Likely as I'm going to be took in a that 'uns. Don't fancy they'll see much of t' hounds again anyhow." Of course if Sir John or Tom happens to be there Pillings is civility itself, and there is no question of first or last, for he knows it would not do, and that if he were to play those sort of pranks with the Master his place would not be worth an hour's purchase. As it is, he is often hard put to it to find an excuse for his behaviour; but he somehow manages to escape by the skin of his teeth, and from constant repetition his performances are looked upon as a regular institution in the county. It is, however, whispered abroad that another year will see a different face at the gate, for even the most conservative of mortals is apt to tire of John's rudeness, and so they are only waiting a favourable opportunity in order to get rid of him altogether. They have repeatedly tried to have the turnpike removed from the road, and have pointed out the inconvenience and annoyance of the thing; but hitherto their efforts have been of no avail, so now they have given it up as a bad job, and have banded themselves together to catch out the principal cause of the nuisance. If they are successful, and Pillings is again out of employment, it will be a difficult matter with him to find bread for himself and wife, for it is extremely doubtful whether anyone in Bullshire would care to have so morose and drunken a servant about their premises. Perhaps after a month or two in the workhouse, he may turn over a new leaf and so get some berth; but under existing circumstances, as old Tom told him one day, if he loses his place he will have either to starve or let himself out as a scarecrow at so much a-day. Therefore, for his own sake, it is to be hoped next season he will improve his manners, and so remain in the only position for which he is suited--to wit, the Man at the Toll-bar. WHO-WHOOP! A bright warm morning in April, with just enough keenness in the air to make one say to oneself: "There's a chance of a scent this morning." A day on which that peculiar freshness of the new-born spring seems to pervade everything. The buds on the roadside hedges, wet with a passing shower, sparkle and glint in the sunshine, and the grass on the banks is green and moist.