ou are my new lodgers. Though why you should be out here
at the stables after your beasts at this hour of the night, and wake me
up with a row; or should take my darter's side-saddle, and kill my
watch-dog, blame you, I _don't_ see!" growled the farmer.

"Come, walk aside with me for a few minutes, and I will show you why,"
said Mr. Berners, soothingly laying his hand on the farmer's shoulder.

"Hands off, if you please! No! I don't think as I _will_ walk aside with
you. You might do me a mischief."

"Bosh! you are armed, and I am unarmed. How can I harm you? Come, and I
will tell you something to your advantage," coaxed Mr. Berners.

Partly urged by curiosity and partly by interest, Farmer Nye reluctantly
consented to follow where Mr. Berners led him. When they had passed out
of hearing of the negroes Mr. Berners stopped, and turned to his host,
and said:

"You know who we are?"

"I know you are my new lodgers--that's all I know about you."

"Yet you must have observed something out of the common about our
party?"

"Yes; I took notice as you and your wife must have been dreadful 'fraid
of being robbed and murdered on your journey, when you kept two men to
travel with you, and guard you all day long, and sleep outside of your
doors like watch-dogs all night long. Which me and my darter made it out
between us as you must have lots of money with you to make you so
cautious. And which, if we had known you was going to be so mistrustful
of _us_, we'd have seen you farther before we'd have took you in."

"And so that is the way in which _you_ accounted for matters and things
that you couldn't understand?"

"To be sure it was; and very natural too."

"Shall I tell him the whole truth?" inquired Lyon Berners of himself. "I
will sound him first," he concluded. Then speaking up, he said:

"Well, you cannot blame people for being cautious, after that horrible
murder at Black Hall."

"That's so too," admitted the farmer.

"And yet," added Mr. Berners, "they _do_ say that it was no robber that
did that murder, but the lady of the house who did it."

"The lady of the house!" indignantly echoed the farmer, to Lyon's great
astonishment. "Don't you go to say that; for if you do, devil burn me if
I don't knock you down with the butt end of my gun!"

"I do not say it. I only tell you what other people say."

"They lie! the hounds! And I wish I could meet any of them venomous
backbiters face to face. Satan fly away wit