own gang of poachers with
head-quarters in a neighbouring county town, who had their eyes on the
pheasant preserves in Westall's particular beat--the Tudley End
beat--and wanted a local watcher and accomplice. He had thought the
matter at first too dangerous to touch. Moreover, he was at that moment
in a period of transition, pestered by Minta to give up "the poachin',"
and yet drawn back to it after his spring and summer of field work by
instincts only recently revived, after long dormancy, but now hard to
resist.

Presently he turned with anger upon one of Minta's wails which happened
to reach him.

"Look 'ere!" said he to her, "where ud you an' the chillen be this night
if I 'adn't done it? 'Adn't we got rid of every stick o' stuff we iver
'ad? 'Ere's a well-furnished place for a chap to sit in!"--he glanced
bitterly round the bare kitchen, which had none of the little properties
of the country poor, no chest, no set of mahogany drawers, no
comfortable chair, nothing, but the dresser and the few rush chairs and
the table, and a few odds and ends of crockery and household
stuff--"wouldn't we all a bin on the parish, if we 'adn't starved
fust--_wouldn't_ we?--jes' answer me that! _Didn't_ we sit here an'
starve, till the bones was comin' through the chillen's skin?--didn't
we?"

That he could still argue the point with her showed the inner
vulnerableness, the inner need of her affection and of peace with her,
which he still felt, far as certain new habits were beginning to sweep
him from her.

"It's Westall or Jenkins (Jenkins was the village policeman) havin' the
_law_ on yer, Jim," she said with emphasis, putting down a cup and
looking at him--it's the thought of _that_ makes me cold in my back.
None o' _my_ people was ever in prison--an' if it 'appened to you I
should just die of shame!"

"Then yer'd better take and read them papers there as _she_ brought," he
said impatiently, first jerking his finger over his shoulder in the
direction of Mellor to indicate Miss Boyce, and then pointing to a heap
of newspapers which lay on the floor in a corner, "they'd tell yer
summat about the shame o' _makin_' them game-laws--not o' breakin' ov
'em. But I'm sick o' this! Where's them chillen? Why do yer let that boy
out so late?"

And opening the door he stood on the threshold looking up and down the
village street, while Minta once more gave up the struggle, dried her
eyes, and told herself to be cheerful. But it was h