CHAPTER III--A NEW FRIEND



The post-office was not robbed that night, neither did the silver
sugar-tongs disappear, though Paul Blackthorn was no farther off than
the hay-loft at Farmer Shepherd's, where he had obtained leave to
sleep.

But he did not go away with morning, though the hay-making was over.
Ellen saw him sitting perched on the empty waggon, munching his
breakfast, and to her great vexation, exchanging nods and grins when
Harold rode by for the morning's letters; and afterwards, there was a
talk between him and the farmer, which ended in his having a hoe put
into his hand, and being next seen in the turnip-field behind the
farm.

To make up for the good day, this one was a very bad one with poor
Alfred. There was thunder in the air, and if the sultry heat weighed
heavily even on the healthy, no wonder it made him faint and
exhausted, disposed to self-pity, and terribly impatient and fretful.
He was provoked by Ellen's moving about the room, and more provoked
by Harold's whistling as he cleaned out the stable; and on the other
hand, Harold was petulant at being checked, and vowed there was no
living in the house with Alfred making such a work. Moreover, Alfred
was restless, and wanted something done for him every moment,
interrupting Ellen's work, and calling his mother up from her baking