"What is this, Festus?" he asked.

"They have robbed me," cried Festus Clasby.

"Robbed you?"

"Ay, of money and of property."

"Good God! How much money?"

"I don't rightly know--I forget--some shillings, maybe."

"Oh! And of property?"

"No matter. It is only one article, but property."

"Come home, Festus; in the name of God get out of this," advised the
good neighbour.

But Festus Clasby was strangely moved. He was behaving like a man who
had drink taken. Something had happened wounding to his soul. "I will
not go," he cried. "I must have back my money."

The tinkers had now ceased disputing among themselves. They were grouped
about the two men as if they were only spectators of an interesting
dispute.

"Back I must have my money!" cried Festus Clasby, his great hand going
up in a mighty threat. The tinkers clicked their tongues on the roofs of