the
offence which shut him off as a creature to be shunned and hated by his
fellow-men.

"What do the folk around here say about me?" he asked one day as they
were walking home from an outlying field.

The old man shook his head.

"They be bitter agen you, mortal bitter. Aye, 'tis a sad business, a
sad business."

And never could he be got to say anything more enlightening.

On a clear frosty evening, a few days before the festival of Christmas,
Stoner stood in a corner of the orchard which commanded a wide view of
the countryside. Here and there he could see the twinkling dots of
lamp or candle glow which told of human homes where the goodwill and
jollity of the season held their sway. Behind him lay the grim, silent
farm-house, where no one ever laughed, where even a quarrel would have
seemed cheerful. As he turned to look at the long grey front of the
gloom-shadowed building, a door opened and old George came hurriedly
forth. Stoner heard his adopted name called in a tone of strained
anxiety. Instantly he knew that something untoward had happened, and
with a quick revulsion of outlook his sanctuary became in his eyes a
place of peace and contentment, from which he dreaded to be driven.

"Master Tom," said the old man in a hoarse whisper, "you must slip away
quiet from here for a few days. Michael Ley is back in the village,
an' he swears to shoot you if he can come across you. He'll do it, too,
there's murder in the look of him. Get away under cover of night, 'tis
only for a week or so, he won't be here longer."

"But where am I to go?" stammered Stoner, who had caught the infection
of the old man's obvious terror.

"Go right away along the coast to Punchford and keep hid there. When
Michael's safe gone I'll ride the roan over to the Green Dragon at
Punchford; when you see the cob stabled at the Green Dragon 'tis a sign
you may come back agen."

"But--" began Stoner hesitatingly.

"'Tis all right for money," said the other; "the old Missus agrees
you'd best do as I say, and she's given me this."

The old man produced three sovereigns and some odd silver.

Stoner felt more of a cheat than ever as he stole away that night from
the back gate of the farm with the old woman's money in his pocket.
Old George and Bowker's pup stood watching him a silent farewell from
the yard. He could scarcely fancy that he would ever come back, and he
felt a throb of compunction for those two humble friends who would