chard, "so don't say
anything, David. I'll go down to the lad's home with my nephew here,
and we'll see if we can find out whether he has been about here since
yesterday."

"And you'll have your work cut out, sir," said David; "for that chap
goes hawking about more like a ferret than aught else; but if it warn't
him, Master Tom, I'll heat my head."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

David went back to his gardening, giving Tom a smile and a nod, and
whispering to him as he followed his uncle after locking up the workshop
and the yard gate--

"You and me's good friends again, arn't we, Master Tom?"

"Yes, of course, David; and I beg your pardon for ever suspecting you."

"Oh, that's all right, sir. It was six o' one and half-a-dozen o' the
other. I thought it was you, and you thought it was me, and--"

"Come, Tom," said Uncle Richard; and the boy hurried forward, and did
not hear the end of David's speech.

"Mind we put a secure fastening on those lower windows to-morrow
morning," said Uncle Richard thoughtfully. "We ought to be able to live
down in a place like this without nocturnal visitors; but there, one
never knows."

They walked on pretty sharply till the cottages were reached; and as
soon as the visitors came up to the gate the curious-looking old woman
appeared at the open door, shading her eyes with her hand, and peering
at them as they walked down the path.

"It's of no use to come here," she cried loudly. "Don't want any. No
money to buy anything. Go to the rich gentlefolk and sech."

"You old impostor!" said Uncle Richard softly. "You can see who we are
plainly enough."

"D'yer hear? Don't want any to-day."

"Now, Mrs Warboys, I want to see your grandson."

"Hey?"

"I say I want to see your grandson."

"What?"

"I want to see your grandson."

"Who are you? Haven't you got anything to sell?"

"You know I have not. You can see well enough when you come for help."

"Hey? Who are you?"

"You know me. I am from Heatherleigh."

"Oh, it's you. I thought you wanted to sell calicoes and flannels.
What did you bring your pack for? What's in it? Oh, I see, it arn't a
pack at all; it's a boy. What d'yer want?"

"I told you I want to see your grandson."

"What for?"

"I want to ask him a few questions."

"Ah, that's no good. He says he had so many asked him at school that
he'll never answer no more."

"Where is he? Call him," said Uncle Richard.

"He arn't at home, and you c