After leaving the mill Mr. Fenwick went up to the Squire¹, and, in contradiction, as it were, of all the hard things that he had said to Sam Brattle, spoke² to the miller³’s landlord in the lad’s favour. He was hard at work now, at any rate; and seemed inclined to stick to his work. And there had been an independence about him which the parson had half liked, even while he had been offended at it. Gilmore differed altogether from his friend. “What was he doing in your garden? What was he doing hidden in Trumbull’s hedge? When I see fellows hiding in ditches at night, I don’t suppose that they’re after much good.” Mr. Fenwick made some lame⁴ apology, even for these offences. Sam had, perhaps, not really known the extent of the iniquity⁵ of the men with whom he had associated, and had come up the garden probably with a view to the fruit. The matter was discussed at great length, and the Squire at last promised that he would give Sam another chance in regard to his own estimation of the young man’s character.

On that same evening,—or, rather, after the evening was over, for it was nearly twelve o’clock at night,—Fenwick walked round the garden and the orchard⁶ with his wife. There was no moon now, and the night was very dark. They stopped for a minute at the wicket leading into the churchyard, and it was evident to them that Bone’m, from the farmyard at the other side of the church, had heard them, for he commenced a low growl⁷, with which the parson was by this time well acquainted.

“Good dog, good dog,” said the parson, in a low voice. “I wish we had his brother, I know.”

“He would only be tearing the maids and biting the children,” said Mrs. Fenwick. “I hate having a savage⁸ beast about.”

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