"I'll see you across the home close, sir," said John Maine. "Thank you, do," said the vicar; "but I think your bull pretty well knows me now. Hallo! here comes Mr Brough, the Squire's keeper, with his black looks and black whiskers. He always looks at me as if he thought I had designs on the squire's game. Hallo! Maine, bad friends? What does that mean?" he continued, as the man gave him a surly salute and then passed on, gun over shoulder, bestowing upon the young bailiff a sneering, half-savage look that was full of meaning. "Tom Brough has never been very good friends with me, sir, since I thrashed him for annoying Miss Jessie there, up at the farm." "Seems as if his love has not yet returned," said the vicar, as he strode away, thinking of the various little plots and by-plots going on in his neighbourhood; and then sighing deeply as he felt that there was trouble in store for himself, in spite of his stern discipline and busy efforts to keep his mind too much employed to think of the countenance that haunted his dreams. It seemed to be the vicar's fate to appear as playing the spy upon Richard Glaire, for, on Iiis return, taking a round-about way back, so as to make a call upon one or two people whom he had relieved of some part of the suffering induced by the strike, he was once more striking for the High Street, when he heard the words sharply uttered: "Well, I'll pay you this time; but let me find that you fail me again and don't you expect--Confound--!" "How do, Mr Glaire," said the vicar, for he had come suddenly upon Richard, laying down the law pretty sharply to Sim Slee, and he was close to them before it was seen on either side. "Really," said the vicar to himself as he strode on, "I've not the slightest wish to see what that unfortunate young man does; but it seems to me that I am to be bound to bear witness to a great deal. Heigho! these are matters that must be left to time." He entered his own gate soon after, and having received Mrs Slee's report, that lady handed him the note she had found. "Mr Glaire's hand," he said, involuntarily and with his brows knit. "Where did you get this?" "My master came to see me, and he must ha' dropped it," said Mrs Slee. "Then take it to him," said the vicar, quietly, as he resumed his calm aspect. "It is nothing to do with us." "I don't know about that," said Mrs Slee, sharply. "What call has young master Dick Glaire to be writing letters to she?"