side were privileged in turn to observe the goings-in
and comings-out of their beloved landlord almost as intimately; nor
did they often tire of discussing his movements, his doings, and even
his intentions.

His monotonous life provided small cause for gossip or speculation;
but when the opportunity arose, it was eagerly seized.

In the failing light of a February afternoon a group of labourers
assembled before the hospitably open door of the Crewys Arms.

"Him baint been London ways vor uppard of vivdeen year, tu my zurtain
knowledge," said the old road-mender, jerking his empty pewter upwards
in the direction of the terrace, where Sir Timothy's solid dark form
could be discerned pacing up and down before his white house.

"Tis vur a ligacy. You may depend on't. 'Twas vur a ligacy last time,"
said a brawny ploughman.

"Volk doan't git ligacies every day," said the road-mender,
contemptuously. "I zays 'tis Master Peter. Him du be just the age when
byes du git drubblezum, gentle are zimple. I were drubblezum myself as
a bye."

"'Twas tu fetch down this 'ere London jintle-man as comed on here wi'
him to-day, I tell 'ee. His cousin, are zuch like. Zame name, anyways,
var James Coachman zaid zo."

"Well, I telled 'ee zo," said the road-mender. "He's brart down the
nextest heir, var tu keep a hold over Master Peter, and I doan't blame
'un."

"James Coachman telled me vive minutes zince as zummat were up. 'Ee
zad such arders var tu-morrer morning, 'ee says, as niver 'ee had
befar," said the landlord.

"Thart James Coachman weren't niver lit tu come here," said the
road-mender, slyly. His toothless mouth extended into the perpetual
smile which had earned him the nickname of "Happy Jack," over sixty
years since, when he had been the prettiest lad in the parish.

"He only snicked down vor a drop o' brandy, vur he were clean rampin'
mazed wi' tuth-ache. He waited till pretty nigh dusk var the ole
ladies tu be zafe. 'Ee says they du take it by turns zo long as
daylight du last, tu spy out wi' their microscopes, are zum zuch, as
none of Sir Timothy's volk git tarking down this ways. A drop o' my
zider might git tu their 'yeds," said the landlord, sarcastically,
"though they drinks Sir Timothy's by the bucket-vull up tu
Barracombe."

"'Tis stronger than yars du be," said Happy Jack. "There baint no
warter put tu't, Joe Gudewyn. The warter-varl be tu handy vur yure
brewin'."

"Zum of my customers has weak 'yeds, 'ti