"Just as yow like, Master Bultitude," said the keeper, sourly; "but just answer me one question, Weer John Maine at home all last night?" "No," said the farmer, savagely, "and he aint been back yet; but that don't prove he weer lungeing 'bout parson's. How do I know he wasn't at Bosthorpe Dancing?" "Bostrop Dancing weer day afore yesterday," said the keeper, grinning as he made this retort about the village feast. "Oh, here comes parson." "Morning, Mr Bultitude," said the vicar, coming in, looking rather grave. "Ah, Miss Jessie, how are you?" he continued, as, on hearing his voice, the girl stole back into the room. "Nice neighbours you are, to lie snug in bed and let your poor vicar be robbed, and murdered, and carried off in a cart." Jessie sank into a chair, looking as white as ashes, while Brough rubbed his hands joyously. "Then it is all true?" said the farmer slowly. "True? Oh, yes, true enough," said the vicar. "I got the scoundrels safely locked up in the cellar." "Howd up, my lass, howd up," whispered the farmer, kindly, as he laid his hand on Jessie's shoulder; "be a woman and let's hear the worst." Then to the vicar: "An' was John Maine wi' 'em, sir?" "Oh yes, he was with them," said the vicar, wondering. "Theer, I telled you so," cried Brough exultantly, "I know'd how he'd turn out." The vicar smiled slightly at this, as he noticed the malice of the man, and he repeated slowly-- "Yes, John Maine was there." The last trace of colour faded out of Jessie's cheeks, and a dull look of stony despair came over her countenance, while the old farmer shifted his position and began to dig a fork savagely into the deal table. "Dal me--" began the old man, but he stopped short. "Just as I telled thee," said Brough, eagerly. "Dal thee! don't set thee clapper going at me," roared the old man. "I know it, don't I?" "Yes," said the vicar, smiling, as he took and patted Jessie's hand; "John Maine was there, and a braver ally I never had." "What?" roared the farmer. "After watching my house, and setting young Podmore to watch it," said the vicar, "he came and warned me about his suspicions, and--" "Dal me!" cried old Bultitude, "you kep' him there all night, parson, to help you?" "I did," said the vicar. "And took the rascals?" "Yes, with John Maine's help." "It's a-maazing," said the old man, slapping his thigh, and bursting into a tremendous series of chuckles. "Oh, parson, you are a one-er, and no mistake." The vicar was conscious of two looks as Jessie ran from the room--one of black indignation, directed at Brough; the other a soft, tender glance of thankfulness at himself, ere the poor girl once more ran up into her own room to "have a good cry." "Let me see," said old Bultitude, dryly; "I don't think theer was owt else as you wanted to tell me, was theer, Master Brough?" "Not as I knows on, farmer," said the keeper, looking from one to the other.