from the description of one of those two, who carried
off the poor woman, I knew beyond all doubt that it was Carver Doone
himself.

[Illustration: 652.jpg Siezed poor Margery]

The other Doones being left behind, and grieved perhaps in some
respects, set to with a will to scour the house, and to bring away all
that was good to eat. And being a little vexed herein (for the Badcocks
were not a rich couple) and finding no more than bacon, and eggs, and
cheese, and little items, and nothing to drink but water; in a word,
their taste being offended, they came back, to the kitchen, and stamped;
and there was the baby lying.

By evil luck, this child began to squeal about his mother, having been
petted hitherto, and wont to get all he wanted, by raising his voice but
a little. Now the mark of the floor was upon his head, as the maid (who
had stolen to look at him, when the rough men were swearing upstairs)
gave evidence. And she put a dish-cloth under his head, and kissed him,
and ran away again. Her name was Honour Jose, and she meant what was
right by her master and mistress; but could not help being frightened.
And many women have blamed her, as I think unduly, for her mode of
forsaking baby so. If it had been her own baby, instinct rather than
reason might have had the day with her; but the child being born of her
mistress, she wished him good luck, and left him, as the fierce men came
downstairs. And being alarmed by their power of language (because they
had found no silver), she crept away in a breathless hurry, and afraid
how her breath might come back to her. For oftentime she had hiccoughs.

While this good maid was in the oven, by side of back-kitchen fireplace,
with a faggot of wood drawn over her, and lying so that her own heart
beat worse than if she were baking; the men (as I said before) came
downstairs, and stamped around the baby.

"Rowland, is the bacon good?" one of them asked with an oath or two; "it
is too bad of Carver to go off with the only prize, and leave us in a
starving cottage; and not enough to eat for two of us. Fetch down the
staves of the rack, my boy. What was farmer to have for supper?"

"Naught but an onion or two, and a loaf and a rasher of rusty bacon.
These poor devils live so badly, they are not worth robbing."

"No game! Then let us have a game of loriot with the baby! It will
be the best thing that could befall a lusty infant heretic. Ride a
cock-horse to Banbury Cross. Bye, b