In Witham it was raining, too, and the wind ran in fierce gusts up the narrow streets and down the innumerable entries. Overhead was a sky like a sodden blanket. He had his big coat, however, and after some breakfast at the “Green Dragon,” he went into the streets as they began to fill for market, seeking news and a friendly lift out. One after another of his acquaintances met him, open-mouthed and incredulous, but from none could he glean that there was anything wrong with his folk. This man had seen them quite recently; that had had news of them but yesterday, and so on. All was well on the marsh--Pippin Hall and the rest. Ninekyrkes still empty, of course. “What of Ladyford?” This brought sly jibes from the growing ring of farmers round the late deserter. “So _yon’s_ what fetched tha back i’ sic a ter’ble scufter like, eh, lad? Nay, now, there’s no use lookin’ as slape as an eel tail! We ken all about it. Oh ay, Ladyford’s snug enough. Here’s Michael to speak for hissel!” Dumbfounded, Dockeray stared as at a ghost, but when he had gathered his wits, had nothing different to say from the rest. He urged the young man to make some attempt to catch his boat, but could not move him. “Ower late, now,” Lup said, running his eye over the wet street for Brack in vain. He had kept his own counsel about the telegram, scarcely knowing why. “I’ve missed it, right enough.” And as in Liverpool, so he said in Witham: “Seein’s believin’!” There was no sign of Brack all morning, but presently he ran into Denny, who fell upon him in delight, and cared not a rush what reason had brought him back as long as he _was_ back. To the dogged inquiry he returned the common denial, but his usually open glance shifted a little when Lup asked for Brack. “Nay, he’s not in town this morning. Leastways, there’s nobody clapped eyes on him yet. He’s a bit rocky in the upper storey, nowadays, is Brack. Going clean off his nut, I reckon!” They had dinner together at the “Dragon,” and afterwards he suggested that Lup should drive back with him and spend the night at Lockholme. Dockeray was for taking him to Ladyford, but Denny clung jealously to his prize, and though Lup’s heart turned to the latter farm, his courage shrank unmistakably. He would go with Denny. If all was right at the Pride, there was no haste till morning. “There’s yon do of Mr. Shaw’s, to-night, at the ‘Duke,’” Denny went on, heartened out of his vague doubts by the “Dragon’s” ale. “What d’you say to going down? I’ll lay Mr. Shaw’ll be glad to see you, and there’s Brack’s invite going begging, anyhow. I hear he’s not for turning up. You can slip over to the Pride first thing while morning. The old folk’ll be feared to death if you come knocking at the door to-night. If you can hang about a bit longer, I’ll be through with my job, an’ then we’ll get out.”