lo MISS BADSWORTH, M.F.H. 



Moreover, from Jack Morgan's view there was much alle- 

 viation of boredom in the fact that mine host of the inn, Tom 

 Barlow by name, was a sportsman ; a fox's head and sundry 

 specimens of stuffed birds in the entrance passage testified 

 to the fact. It is true that they might have proved that their 

 owner was a taxidermist of no great pretensions, but a 

 glimpse of Tom Barlow said ** perish the thought " ; his walk, 

 the cut of his coat and breeches forbade so low a view. Resi- 

 dents within a radius of twenty miles knew that Tom was 

 a judge of a horse, and was more than likely to know the 

 history of any animal bred or owned in the neighbourhood, 

 consequently frequent deputations of intending purchasers 

 waited on him, and withal there was a tap of cider at the 

 Duchy Arms which was not to be despised. 



" What do folk do down here ? " Jack asked, when having 

 discussed an excellent dinner served in Mrs. Barlow's best 

 style (she had been cook and housekeeper before she married, 

 and acted on her precept that to keep menfolk contented you 

 must find them good victuals) he gravitated to the only spot 

 where sociability could be found, viz., the comfortable bar 

 parlour. Tom Barlow was smoking his pipe in the arm- 

 chair from which he conducted the diurnal meetings of his 

 customers ; Mrs. Barlow was seated beside the table nearer 

 to the lamp in order the better to execute her needlework, 

 for her eyes, she asserted, " were not what they were," whilst 

 a comely daughter knitting a pair of stockings was ready to 

 attend to the behests of customers. 



" Some minds their own business, and some knows all 

 about other folks' matters," Tom replied with a smile that 

 showed he was not answering the question of his guest. 



" That's what happens in most places, isn't it ? It's so 

 in Dumpshire, but this spot looks different. I should have 

 thought every one sat on his doorstep and whistled." 



" Dumpshire ? " Tom queried, sitting up in his chair. " You 

 come from there, sir, do you ? Mayhap you know Tod's farm ? ' ' 



" To be sure, and Jimmy Edwards too ; every one knows 

 Jimmy, a right good sportsman and a capital farmer." 



