had a father to take his part. And he
had further heard Farden's statement of having himself thrown away the
eggs, and Mrs. Hayward's declaration that she verily believed that the
farmer only made the accusation an excuse for hurrying the lad off
because he thought him faltering for a fever, and wouldn't have him sick
there.

This was shocking enough; Mr. Cope had thought it merely the kind-hearted
woman's angry construction, but it was still worse when he came to the
farmer and his wife.

So used were they to think it their business to wring the utmost they
could out of whatever came in their way, that they had not the slightest
shame about it. They thought they had done a thing to be proud of in
making such a good bargain of the lad, and getting so much work out of
him for so little pay; in fact, that they had been rather weakly kind in
granting him the freedom of the hay-loft; the notion of his dishonesty
was firmly fixed in their heads, though there was not a charge to bring
against him. This was chiefly because they had begun by setting him down
as a convict, and because they could not imagine any one living honestly
on what they gave him. And lastly, the farmer thought the cleverest
stroke of all, was the having got rid of him just as winter was coming on
and work was scarce, and when there seemed to be a chance of his being
laid up to encumber the rates. Mr. Cope was quite breathless after the
answer he had made to them. He had never spoken so strongly in his life
before, and he could hardly believe his own ears, that people could be
found, not only to do such things, but to be proud of having done them.

It is to be hoped there are not many such thoroughgoing tyrants; but
selfishness is always ready to make any one into a tyrant, and Mammon is
a false god, who manages to make his servants satisfied that they are
doing their duty.

It was plain enough that no help was to be expected from the farm, and
neither Mrs. King nor the clergyman thought there was much hope in the
Guardians; however, they were to be applied to, and this would be at
least a reprieve for Paul. Mr. Cope went up to see him, and found Harold
sitting on the top step of the stairs.

'Well, boys,' he said, in his hearty voice, 'so you've had a battle, I
hear. I'm glad it turned out better than your namesake's at Hastings.'

Paul was not too ill to smile at this; and Harold modestly said, 'It was
all along of he, Sir.'

'And he see