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cadaverous hue； and he had a grizzly jagged beard of some three
weeks’ date。 Such was the figure （very meanly and poorly clad）
that now rose from the seat； and stalking across the room sat down
in a corner of the chimney； which the politeness or fears of the
little clerk very readily assigned to him。
‘A highwayman！’ whispered Tom Cobb to Parkes the ranger。
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‘Do you suppose highwaymen don’t dress handsomer than
that？’ replied Parkes。 ‘It’s a better business than you think for；
Tom； and highwaymen don’t need or use to be shabby； take my
word for it。’
Meanwhile the subject of their speculations had done due
honour to the house by calling for some drink； which was
promptly supplied by the landlord’s son Joe； a broad…shouldered
strapping young fellow of twenty； whom it pleased his father still
to consider a little boy； and to treat accordingly。 Stretching out his
hands to warm them by the blazing fire； the man turned his head
towards the company； and after running his eye sharply over
them； said in a voice well suited to his appearance：
‘What house is that which stands a mile or so from here？’
‘Public…house？’ said the landlord； with his usual deliberation。
‘Public…house； father！’ exclaimed Joe； ‘where’s the public…house
within a mile or so of the Maypole？ He means the great house—
the Warren—naturally and of course。 The old red brick house； sir；
that stands in its own grounds—？’
‘Aye；’ said the stranger。
‘And that fifteen or twenty years ago stood in a park five times
as broad； which with other and richer property has bit by bit
changed hands and dwindled away—more’s the pity！’ pursued the
young man。
‘Maybe；’ was the reply。 ‘But my question related to the owner。
What it has been I don’t care to know； and what it is I can see for
myself。’
The heir…apparent to the Maypole pressed his finger on his lips；
and glancing at the young gentleman already noticed； who had
changed his attitude when the house was first mentioned； replied
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in a lower tone：
‘The owner’s name is Haredale； Mr Geoffrey Haredale； and’—
again he glanced in the same direction as before—‘and a worthy
gentleman too—hem！’
Paying as little regard to this admonitory cough； as to the
significant gesture that had preceded it； the stranger pursued his
questioning。
‘I turned out of my way coming here； and took the footpath that
crosses the grounds。 Who was the young lady that I saw entering a
carriage？ His daughter？’
‘Why； how should I know； honest man？’ replied Joe； contriving
in the course of some arrangements about the hearth； to advance
close to his questioner and pluck him by the sleeve； ‘I didn’t see
the young lady； you know。 Whew！ There’s the wind again—and
rain—well it is a night！’
Rough weather indeed！’ observed the strange man。
‘You’re used to it？’ said Joe； catching at anything which seemed
to promise a diversion of the subject。
‘Pretty well；’ returned the other。 ‘About the young lady—has Mr
Haredale a daughter？’
‘No； no；’ said the young fellow fretfully； ‘he’s a single
gentleman—he’s—be quiet； can’t you； man？ Don’t you see this talk
is not relished yonder？’
Regardless of this whispered remonstrance； and affecting not to
hear it； his tormentor provokingly continued：
‘Single men have had daughters before now。 Perhaps she may
be his daughter； though he is not married。’
‘What do you mean？’ said Joe； adding in an undertone as he
approached him again； ‘You’ll come in for it presently； I know you
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will！’
‘I mean no harm’—returned the traveller boldly； ‘and have said
none that I know of。 I ask a few questions—as any stranger may；
and not unnaturally—about the inmates of a remarkable house in
a neighbourhood which is new to me； and you are as aghast and
disturbed as if I were talking treason against King George。
Perhaps you can tell me why； sir； for （as I say） I am a stranger； and
this is Greek to me？’
The latter observation was addressed to the obvious cause of
Joe Willet’s discomposure； who had risen and was adjusting his
riding…cloak preparatory to sallying abroad。 Briefly replying that
he could give him no information； the young man beckoned to Joe；
and handing him a piece of money in payment of his reckoning；
hurried out attended by young Willet himself； who taking up a
candle followed to light him to the house…door。
While Joe was absent on this errand； the elder Willet and his
three companions continued to smoke with profound gravity； and
in a deep silence； each having his eyes fixed on a huge copper
boiler that was suspended over the fire。 After some time John
Willet slowly shook his head； and thereupon his friends slowly
shook theirs； but no man withdrew his eyes from the boiler； or
altered the solemn expression of his countenance in the slightest
degree。
At length Joe returned—very talkative and conciliatory； as
though with a strong presentiment that he was going to be found
fault with。
‘Such a thing as love is！’ he said； drawing a chair near the fire；
and looking round for sympathy。 ‘He has set off to walk to
London；—all the way to London。 His nag gone lame in riding out
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here this blessed afternoon； and comfortably littered down in our
stable at this minute； and he giving up a good hot supper and our
best bed； because Miss Haredale has gone to a masquerade up in
town； and he has set his heart upon seeing her！ I don’t think I
could persuade myself to do that； beautiful as she is；—but then I’m
not in love （at least I don’t think I am） and that’s the whole
difference。’
‘He is in love then？’ said the stranger。
‘Rather；’ replied Joe。 ‘He’ll never be more in love； and may very
easily be less。’
‘Silence； sir！’ cried his father。
‘What a chap you are； Joe！’ said Long Parkes。
‘Such a inconsiderate lad！’ murmured Tom Cobb。
‘Putting himself forward and wringing the very nose off his own
father’s face！’ exclaimed the parish…clerk； metaphorically。
‘What have I done？’ reasoned poor Joe。
‘Silence； sir！’ returned his father； ‘what do you mean by talking；
when you see people that are more than two or three times your
age； sitting still and silent and not dreaming of saying a word？’
‘Why that’s the proper time for me to talk； isn’t it？’ said Joe
rebelliously。
‘The proper time； sir！’ retorted his father； ‘the proper time’s no
time。’
‘Ah to be sure！’ muttered Parkes； nodding gravely to the other
two who nodded likewise； observing under their breaths that that
was the point。
‘The proper time’s no time； sir；’ repeated John Willet； ‘when I
was your age I never talked； I never wanted to talk。 I listened and
improved myself that’s what I did。’
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‘And you’d find your father rather a tough customer in
argeyment； Joe； if anybody was to try and tackle him；’ said Parkes。
‘For the matter o’ that； Phil！’ observed Mr Willet； blowing a
long； thin； spiral cloud of