“Well, no,” said Mr. Barrowclouch, laughing, “if valuers were always as stiff and peremptory as they should be. But my man was rather a soft one, and Mr. Drury is such a hurrying sort of man; bless me! he seemed as though he would ride rough shod right over us all. ‘Oh!’ he would say, ‘that is but a poor affair—that is not worth more than so and so, and that’s hardly worth valuing at all;’ and he kept hurrying along, saying time was precious, and had the valuers here and there and yonder, quick as lightning. ‘Mr. Drury,’ said I, ‘let you and me go away, and leave the gentlemen to their cool judgment, _we_ have no business to say a word.’ ‘Oh no!’ he would say, ‘he must see how all was done, and the gentlemen could settle all afterwards.’ But I could see my man began to be quite flabbergasted, and to get a wonderful opinion of your Mr. Drury, and my heart began to sink in me. I felt that my effects would go very cheap, when, all at once, some taters were mentioned in the cellar. ‘Let’s see ’em,’ says Mr. Drury, and off he goes to the house, and calls for a candle. ‘Hold hard!’ said I, ‘hold hard! have a care! the cellar steps are dangerous to a stranger. Let me go first with a light.’ ‘Dangerous,’ said he, in his off-hand way, ‘how can cellar steps in a decent house be dangerous?’ Up he catches the light and hurries on. ‘For God’s sake,’ said I, ‘keep back;’ but it was no use, on he goes, holding up his light, and down he goes bang to the bottom. Oh Lors! oh Lors! I made sure he were killed, and I heard a dreadful groan, and there he lay as dead.” “You had no handrail, Mr. Drury says.” “No, that’s true,” said the farmer; “nor there’s been none since it was a house, but I never heard of anybody afore tumbling down. Everybody is warned when they come fresh, and they awllis tak’ a light, and look where they goon’. But Mr. Drury is such a hurrying, driving sort of a man; he seems as if he’d drive sun and moon, and th’ seven stars afore him. However, I hope he’ll be no worse for it. I am sure I’m not.” Mr. Woodburn thought there was something very characteristic of his new neighbour in Mr. Barrowclouch’s remarks; he thought he saw symptoms of the same on-driving, overweening temperament in him, even in conversation. He was destined to see this only too fully confirmed.