ared him to find treasures in the
neighbourhood of the Toft of whose existence its occupants knew naught.

"Don't you find it very dull out there, Mr Marston," said Mrs
Winthorpe one day, "always watching your men cut--cut--cut--through that
wet black bog?"

"Dull, madam!" he said, smiling; "why, it is one continual time of
excitement. I watch every spadeful that is taken out, expecting to come
upon some relic of the past, historical or natural. By the way, Dick,
did that man Bargle ever give you the big tusk he said he had found?"

"No, he has never said any more about it, and I don't like to ask."

"Then I will. Perhaps it is the tooth of some strange beast which used
to roam these parts hundreds of years ago."

"I say, Marston," said the squire, "you'd like to see your great band of
ruffians at work excavating here, eh?"

"Mr Winthorpe," said the young man, "I'd give anything to be allowed to
search the ruins."

"Yes, and turn my place upside down, and disturb the home of the poor
old monks who used to live here! No, no; I'm not going to have my place
ragged to pieces. But when we do dig down, we come upon some curious
old stones."

"Like your tobacco-jar?" the engineer said, pointing to the old carven
corbel.

The squire nodded.

"You've got plenty of digging to do, my lad," he said, laughing.
"Finish that, and then perhaps I may let you have a turn my way. Who's
going over to see John Warren?"

"Ah, I wish you would go," said Mrs Winthorpe, "and take the poor
fellow over some things I have ready, in a basket!"

"I'll go," said Dick. "Hicky will take us in his punt. There'll be
plenty of time, and it's moonlight at nine."

"I'll go with you, Dick," said Marston. "What's the matter with the
man?"

"Our own particular complaint, which the people don't want you to kill,
my lad," said the squire. "Marsh fever--ague. Years to come when it's
swept away by the drainage, the people will talk of it as one of the
good things destroyed by our work. They are rare ones to grumble, and
stick to their old notions."

"But the people seem to be getting used to us now."

"Oh yes! we shall live it down."

Dick sat and listened, but said nothing. Still he could not help
recalling how one old labourer's wife had shaken her head and spit upon
the ground as his father went by, and wondered in his mind whether this
was some form of curse.

"Tak' you over to the Warren, my lad?" said Hickathrift, as they