ld?"

Miss Sally grinned.

"Hay-making," she answered, "while the sun shines--that is to say, in
Glasson's absence. I propose to make a considerable deal of hay.
Something will depend on Mr. Hucks; but from the child's account of him,
I build great hopes on Mr. Hucks. . . . There's one thing more. I've
sent the barouche to the station. If I drive my own cart over to Fair
Anchor, there's nobody but Butts to bring it back, and you know Butts's
driving. If I take the brown, the brown'll bolt with him, and if I take
the chestnut filly he'll let her down. So I must commandeer you and
Archdeacon."

Accordingly Parson Chichester drove Miss Sally over to the station, and
bestowed her comfortably in the 7.12 up train. She was in the highest
spirits. Having dispatched her and watched the train out of sight, the
parson lit his lamps, climbed into his dog-cart again, and headed
Archdeacon back for home.

He had struck the Inistow road, when his ear caught the beat of hoofs
approaching at a gallop through the darkness. He quartered and cried
hullo! as the rider drew close. On the moors it was unusual to meet a
rider at night; nobody rode so hard unless for a doctor, and no doctor
dwelt in this direction.

"Hullo, friend!"

"Hullo!"

The rider reined up, and by the light of his lamps Parson Chichester
recognised the young giant Roger.

"What's your errand, my friend?"

"To Culvercoombe. The children--"

"Miss Sally has left by the night train. I drove her over to Fair
Anchor myself. What of the children? We were expecting them all the
afternoon."

"They are gone--lost! Last night, as we reckon, they took the boat and
made a bolt for it. All this day we've been searching, and an hour
agone word comes from the coast-guard that the boat has driven ashore,
empty, on Clatworthy beach."

CHAPTER XXV.

MISS SALLY BREAKS THE DOORS.

"_And to shew Thy pity upon all prisoners and captives._"--THE LITANY

Mr. Hucks sat in his counting-house, counting out his money--or so much
of it as he had collected from his tenantry on his Saturday rounds.
It amounted to 12 pounds 2 shillings and 9 pence in cash; but to this
must be added a caged bullfinch, a pair of dumb-bells, a down mattress
and an ophicleide. He had coveted the ophicleide for weeks; but he knew
how to wait, and in the end it had fallen to his hand--if the simile may
be permitted--like a ripe peach.

The clock at the Great Brewery struck ten