,' said Springrove. 'I must look round before
going to bed and see that everything's safe; but to tell the truth I
am anxious to get the rubbish burnt up before the rain comes to wash it
into ground again. As to carrying the couch into the back field to
burn, and bringing it back again, why, 'tis more than the ashes would be
worth.'
'Well, that's very true,' said the neighbours, and passed on.
Two or three times during the first evening after the heap was lit, he
went to the back door to take a survey. Before bolting and barring
up for the night, he made a final and more careful examination.
The slowly-smoking pile showed not the slightest signs of activity.
Springrove's perfectly sound conclusion was, that as long as the heap
was not stirred, and the wind continued in the quarter it blew from
then, the couch would not flame, and that there could be no shadow of
danger to anything, even a combustible substance, though it were no more
than a yard off.
The next morning the burning couch was discovered in precisely the same
state as when he had gone to bed the preceding night. The heap smoked
in the same manner the whole of that day: at bed-time the farmer looked
towards it, but less carefully than on the first night.
The morning and the whole of the third day still saw the heap in its old
smouldering condition; indeed, the smoke was less, and there seemed a
probability that it might have to be re-kindled on the morrow.
After admitting Mrs. Manston to his house in the evening, and hearing
her retire, Mr. Springrove returned to the front door to listen for a
sound of his son, and inquired concerning him of the railway-porter,
who sat for a while in the kitchen. The porter had not noticed young
Mr. Springrove get out of the train, at which intelligence the old man
concluded that he would probably not see his son till the next day,
as Edward had hitherto made a point of coming by the train which had
brought Mrs. Manston.
Half-an-hour later the porter left the inn, Springrove at the same time
going to the door to listen again an instant, then he walked round and
in at the back of the house.
The farmer glanced at the heap casually and indifferently in passing;
two nights of safety seemed to ensure the third; and he was about to
bolt and bar as usual, when the idea struck him that there was just a
possibility of his son's return by the latest train, unlikely as it
was that he would be so delayed. The old man there
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