The Savage, wholly unconscious of, and totally indifferent to, the fact that his every footstep was watched by Stephen, entered the "Bush" Inn and went straight to his room, the little knot of regular customers, who were drinking and smoking in the parlor, either rising respectfully as he entered or maintaining an equally respectful silence until he was out of hearing. "Mr. Jack's a fine fellow," said the landlord, looking at the fire solemnly. "Did you notice his face as he went through? I'm afraid it's all over with the old squire. Well, well, rest his soul, I say. I'm not one to bear grudges against the dead." There was, if not a hearty, a unanimous assent to this dutiful sentiment, and the landlord, encouraged, ventured a little further, looking first over his shoulder to see if the door was shut, and then glancing at a little wrinkled faced man who sat in the corner by the fireplace, and looked, in his rusty black suit, like a lawyer's clerk, as indeed he was. "All over now, Mr. Skettle," said the landlord, with a little cough. "I wonder--ahem--who'll be the next squire?" The old clerk peered out from under his hairless brows, and shook his head with a dry smile; it was a very fair imitation of his master's, Mr. Hudsley's, manner, and never failed to impress the company at the "Bush." "Aha!" he breathed. "Hem--yes. Time will prove--time will prove, Jobson." Jobson, the landlord, looked round and winked with impressive admiration, as much as to say, "Deep fellow, Skettle; knows all about it, mind you, but not a word!" "Well," said the parish clerk, with a shake of the head, "if wishing would make the mare to go, I know who'd be the Squire o' Hurst," and he pointed with his pipe to the ceiling, above which the Savage was thoughtfully pacing to and fro. "We've had enough o' Davenants," began the miller; but Jobson stopped him with a warning gesture. "No names, South--no names; this air a public house, and I'm a man as minds my own business." "So was the last squire," retorted the miller, who was not to be put down--"leastways, he didn't meddle or help his neighbors. Not one shilling have I took from the Hurst since I was that high. Is there a man in this room as can say he'll be a penny the worse for Squire Ralph's death? "And from what I see it seems to me that if things go on as they appear to be going, we shan't be much better for the new squire, if the name's to be the same." "A nice spoken gentleman, Mr. Stephen," muttered the tailor, from behind the table. The miller smiled and shook his head. "There's some grain as grinds so soft that you can't keep it on the ground from the wind; but it don't make good bread, neighbor. No! Now the youngster up above," and he jerked his head toward the ceiling, "he comes of a different branch--same tree, mind yer, but a healthier branch. It will be good news for Hurst Leigh if it's found that Master Jack is to be our head."