a
good look at you both, and I shall know you again."

With that I turned and walked away, for, if the truth must be told, I
did not care about fighting with Tresidder's minions, and my father had
told me many times to be careful.

The path was very crooked, and the foliage was very thick, so that I had
not gone more than a few steps before I was out of their sight. Acting
on the impulse of the moment, I stopped and listened.

"A regular Pennington," I heard the old woman say. "You must be careful,
Richard, for he has more brains than his father. He has all the good
looks of the family, too. We must be silent about all our plans, for if
he knows he will spoil them. Remember the will."

"I do remember; that is why I am anxious about our boys. Still, there
can be no fear, and it will not be so very long before we shall get her.
That settled, and Nick will be all right."

I heard no more after that, but I wondered often what he meant. I told
my father, too, but he could give me no hint toward the solution of
Tresidder's words.

After my father's death I ceased to think so much of Pennington; for I
had Elmwater Barton to look after. I was determined to make the farm
pay, and now that all the responsibility rested on me, I made up my mind
that the Tresidders should not play fast and loose with me, as they had
done with my father. In order to do this I looked carefully around me
for a man in whom I could trust; for, be it remembered, this was a very
difficult matter. My father had engaged two hinds, and each of these had
been bribed by the Tresidders to injure his property. You see, his
enemies had almost supreme power in the parish, and they used it to his
injury. Still, I knew that the Tresidders must have enemies as well as
other people, and it was for me to find out who they were. This I had no
great difficulty in doing. A man named William Dawe had farmed a place
named Treviscoe, on the Pennington estate, and the poor fellow had
several seasons of bad luck. One year his turnip crop failed; the next
the foot and mouth disease got hold of his cattle; and the next, during
the lambing season, he lost a great number of sheep. Indeed, so bad was
his luck that he was unable to pay his rent. Perhaps Tresidder would
have been lenient with him but for two things: one was that he had
refused to take sides with him against my father, and another was that
when Nick Tresidder insulted William Dawe's daughter the farmer gave him