I shall stay with you."

"Not a bit of it. I shall hobble down with you, and lie on the
bank and smoke a cheroot."

"No, you shan't walk, at any rate. I can borrow the constable's
pony, old Nibble, the quietest beast in the world. He'll stand
for a week if we like, while I fish and you lie and look on. I'll
be off and bring him around in two minutes."

"Then we shall meet for a clumsy tea at nine at my lodgings,"
said Hardy, as he went off to his pastoral duties.

Tom and East, in due time, found themselves by the side of the
stream. There was only a small piece of fishable water in
Englebourn. The fine stream, which, a mile or so below, in the
Grange grounds, might be called a river, came into respectable
existence only about two hundred yards above Englebourn Mill.
Here two little chalk brooks met, and former millers had
judiciously deepened the channel, and dammed the united waters
back so as to get a respectable reservoir. Above the junction the
little weedy, bright, creeping brooks afforded good sport for
small truants groppling about with their hands, or bobbing with
lob worms under the hollow banks, but were not available for the
scientific angler. The parish ended at the fence next below the
mill garden, on the other side of which the land was part of the
Grange estate. So there was just the piece of still water above
the mill, and the one field below it, over which Tom had leave.
On ordinary occasions this would have been enough, with careful
fishing, to last him till dark; but his nerves were probably
somewhat excited by the events of the day, and East sat near and
kept talking; so he got over his water faster than usual. At any
rate, he had arrived for the second time at the envious fence
before the sun was down. The fish were wondrous wary in the
miller's bit of water--as might be expected, for they led a dog
of a life there, between the miller and his men and their nets,
and baits of all kinds always set. So Tom thought himself lucky
to get a couple of decent fish, the only ones that were moving
within his liberty; but he could not help looking with covetous
eyes on the fine stretch of water below, all dimpling with rises.

"Why don't you get over and fish below?" said East, from his seat
on the bank; "don't mind me. I can watch you; besides, lying on
the turf on such an evening is luxury enough by itself."

"I can't go. Both sides below belong to that fellow Wurley."

"The sergeant's amiable land