"As good a farret as ever run along a hole."

"As bad a one as ever stopped in and wouldn't come out again."

"And you turn like that on a fellow."

"You're a cheat, Magg, and you took us in. That was your old ferret you sold me, and I wish I'd never paid you a shilling."

"Nay, not you. It's a good farret, and you've only paid me four shillin' out of them five."

"And I don't think I shall pay you any more."

"Nay, you must. Gents can't break their words."

"But they can break blackguards' heads, Magg."

"I ain't a blackguard, and I sold you the ferret fair and square. It weren't my fault you let it run down a hole in the loft."

"When it proved directly that it was your old one, for there it stops."

"I shouldn't pay him the other shilling till he got it out, Tom," I said.

"I don't mean to. How many times have you been to look for it, Magg?"

"How many times? I didn't count. Every morn when I come to work have I gone down on my chestie in that there loft, watching o' them rat-holes."

"Yes, and you've never caught him. Four shillings did I pay you for that ferret--"

"And a shillin' more to pay," said Magglin, grinning. "And only once have I seen his nasty ugly little pink nose since, when he poked it out of a hole and slipped back again.

"But then see how he must have kept down the rats," said the man.

"Bother the rats. I want my ferret." Mercer turned sharply round to me.

"I say," he whispered, "he's a blackguard and a cheat. We wanted to practise. Let's both pitch into him."

I naturally enough laughed at the idea, and, looking round at the under gardener, I saw that he was watching us with his rat-like eyes.

"I say," he whispered, with an accompaniment of nods and winks, "I was lying wait for you two."

"We're not rabbits, Magg," I said.

"Who said you was?" he cried, with a sharp look round behind him.

"Nor yet hares, Magg," cried Mercer.

"Now look ye here," said the fellow appealingly, "it's too bad on you two chuckin' things in a man's face like that now. Ain't I always getting a honest living? You talk like that, and somebody'll be thinkin' I go porching."

"So you do," said Mercer.

"What, porch?"

"Yes. I know. Bob Hopley says so too."

"Only hark at him," cried Magglin, "talking like that! Why, Bob Hopley's a chap as must do something to show for his wage, and he'd take any man's character away. He hate me, he do."

"Yes, and you hate him, Magg," I said.

The fellow turned on me sharply, but a curiously ugly smile began to make curves like parentheses at the corners of his lips, and he showed his teeth directly after.

"Well, I ain't so very fond of him," he said. "But look here, there ain't no harm in a rabbid, and I was looking out for you two to ast if you'd like to meet me, just by accident like, somewheers down to this side o' High Pines, where the sandhills is. There's a wonderful lot o'

rabbids there just now."

"Yes, but when?" cried Mercer. "I want a rabbit or two to skin and stuff."

"And you'd gie me the rabbids to eat."

"Of course. When do you mean?"

"I thowt as to-night'd do, 'bout seven, when they're beginning to lope about."

"And you'd shoot some with that little gun of yours?"

"Whisht! Who's got a gun? Nonsense!"

"Ah, we know," cried Mercer.

"But I mean farreting."

"Wouldn't do," said Mercer decisively. "Bob Hopley would be sure to come."

"Nay, he's going to Hastings to-day, and won't be back till ten o'clock."

"How do you know?"

"Little birds out in the woods tells me."

"Magpies, eh?" I said. "Oh, I know."

"Then we'll come," cried Mercer. "But, I say, let us each have a shot with the little gun."

"Nay, I'm a gardener, and ain't got no guns. I meant farreting."

"But you know I've lost the ferret," cried Mercer. "You can't go ferreting without ferrets."

Magglin was standing before us with a curious, furtive smile on his face, and his hands deep down in his pockets, and as Mercer finished speaking, he slowly raised one hand, so that we saw peering out over the top of his jacket pocket the sharp buff hairy head of a ferret, and we both uttered a cry of joy.

"Why, you've got one!" said Mercer. "Why--yes--it is. It's my ferret."

"Yes," said Magglin. "I nipped him this morning. He was out running about the loft, and I got hold of him at once. He's eaten all the rats he could catch, and he was out smelling about, and trying to get into that old corn-bin, so as to have a feed on your stuffed things."