l be half dead by the time I get there." Nevertheless, in the
indecision, he still walked on. He thought he'd see how affairs looked
when he came to the green fields. Green! brown, rather.

But Lionel found other affairs to look at before he reached the fields.
On turning a sharp angle of Clay Lane, he was surprised to see a crowd
collected, stretching from one side of it to the other. Not a peaceable
crowd evidently, although it was composed for the most part of the
gentler sex; but a crowd of threatening arms and inflamed faces, and
swaying white caps and noisy tongues. The female population of Clay Lane
had collected there.

Smash! went the breaking of glass in Lionel's ears as he came in view;
smash! went another crash. Were Peckaby's shop windows suffering? A
misgiving that it must be so, crossed the mind of Lionel, and he made
few steps to the scene of warfare.

Sure enough it was nothing less. Three great holes were staring in so
many panes, the splinters of glass lying inside the shop-window, amidst
butter and flour, and other suchlike articles. The flour looked brown,
and the butter was running away in an oily stream; but that was no
reason why a shower of broken glass should be added to improve their
excellences. Mr. Peckaby, with white gills and hair raised up on end,
stood, the picture of fear, gazing at the damage, but too much afraid to
start out and prevent it. Those big men are sometimes physical cowards.
Another pane smashed! the weapon used being a hard piece of flint coal,
which just escaped short of Mr. Peckaby's head, and Lionel thought it
time to interfere. He pushed into the midst of them.

They drew aside when they saw who it was. In their hot passions--hot and
angry then--perhaps no one, friend or enemy, would have stood a chance
of being deferred to but Lionel Verner. They had so long looked upon him
as the future lord of Verner's Pride that they forgot to look upon him
as anything less now. And they all liked Lionel. His appearance was as
oil poured upon troubled waters.

"What is the meaning of this? What is the matter?" demanded Lionel.

"Oh, sir, why don't you interfere to protect us, now things is come to
this pass? You be a Verner!" was the prayer of remonstrance from all
sides that met his words.

"Give me an explanation," reiterated Lionel. "What is the grievance?"

The particular grievance of this morning, however easy to explain, was
somewhat difficult to comprehend, when twen