ll know before long.'

'Oh, lor' bless me, air!' cried Henslowe with a guffaw, 'it's all one to
me. And if the Squire ain't satisfied with the way his work's done now,
why he can take you on as a second string you know. You'd show us all,
I'll be bound, how to make the money fly.'

Then Robert's temper gave way, and he turned upon the half-drunken brute
before him with a few home truths delivered with a rapier-like force
which for the moment staggered Henslowe, who turned from red to purple.
The Rector, with some of those pitiful memories of the hamlet, of which
we had glimpses in his talk with Langham, burning at his heart felt the
man no better than a murderer, and as good as told him so. Then, without
giving him time to reply, Robert strode off, leaving Henslowe planted
in the pathway. But he was hardly up the hill before the agent, having
recovered himself by dint of copious expletives, was looking after him
with a grim chuckle. He knew his master, and he knew himself, and he
thought between them they would about manage to keep that young spark in
order.

Robert meanwhile went straight home into his study, and there fell upon
ink and paper. What was the good of protracting the matter any longer?
Something must and should be done for these people, if not one way, then
another.

So he wrote to the Squire, showing the letter to Catherine when it was
done, lest there should be anything over-fierce in it. It was the
simple record of twelve months' experience told with dignity and strong
feeling. Henslowe was barely mentioned in it, and the chief burden
of the letter was to implore the Squire to come and inspect certain
portions of his property with his own eyes. The Rector would be at his
service any day or hour.

Husband and wife went anxiously through the document, softening here,
improving there, and then it was sent to the Hall. Robert waited
nervously through the day for an answer. In the evening, while he and
Catherine were in the footpath after dinner, watching a chilly autumnal
moonrise over the stubble of the cornfield, the answer came.

'Hm,' said Robert dubiously as he opened it, holding it up to the
moonlight: 'can't be said to be lengthy.'

He and Catherine hurried into the house. Robert read the letter, and
handed it to her without a word.

After some curt references to one or two miscellaneous points raised
in the latter part of the Rector's letter, the Squire wound up as
follows:--

"As for