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Perris, who had slunk off to bed when he found himself left alone, awoke next morning with anticipations of further trouble: he knew his wife well enough by that time to feel assured that she would give him the benefit of her tongue all that day, and the next day, and for many days. He went downstairs quietly in his stockinged feet, and peeping into the house-place, saw Rhoda fast asleep on the old settle. Perris stole over to the hearth, secured the boots which he had left there the previous night, and let himself out into the yard. Sitting on the edge of the well-trough he put the boots on, and then made swiftly in the direction of the field wherein he had slept off his drink. His brain was still clouded and heavy from the previous day's debauch, but he was sensible enough to know that there was a strong probability of his having lost his money at the wheatstack.

"I mun ha' rolled ower i' my sleep, and then it slipped out o' mi pockets," he muttered, as he went over the dew-laden grass. "There's nowhere else where I could ha' lost it, and I mun find it, or else there'll be t' Owd Lad to play wi' Rhoda. It mun be theer!"

But when Perris came to the wheatstack, fully expecting to find his gold and silver on the spot where he had lain, he found nothing, though he got down on hands and knees and examined every foot of the space between the stack and the hedgerow. Then he retraced the path which he had followed from the high-road, and he went down the high-road itself until he was in sight of the Dancing Bear. He went back by the same way, and again examined his resting-place of the day before; in the end, as breakfast-time was drawing near, he returned to the farmstead, empty-handed as he had set out. If it had been possible he would have fled to the ends of the earth he knew well what was in store for him.

Pippany Webster, very red about the eyes and tremulous about the lips, was feeding the pigs when Perris crossed the fold on his way to the house. Perris stopped and looked at him.

"Ye were hoeing turnips i' yon five-acre yesterday afternoon?" he said, without preface.

"I wor hoein' turnips theer all t' day," answered Pippany. "Niver did nowt else."

"Did ye see onnybody about i' t' afternoon?" asked Perris. "Any strange folk, like, goin' over yon footpath across t' fields?"

"Noe!" replied Pippany. "I niver seed nobody—leastways, I did see t' parson governess, and t' parson two childer, walkin' across theer wi' their dog. About three o'clock that there wor."

"Did yer see me?" asked Perris.

Pippany looked at his master with the surprise of innocence.

"Ye?" he exclaimed. "No, I niver seed owt o' ye, maister. I thowt ye wor at t' rent dinner."

Perris rubbed his chin and walked into the house. It was in his mind that he would let Rhoda storm while he himself held his peace. He expected to hear her tongue as soon as he crossed the threshold, and he hung his head and rounded his shoulders as he stepped in. After all, he was saying to himself, she was bound to give him his breakfast, and after that he could escape to the fields.

But to Perris's intense surprise no storm of anger and reproach burst upon him. The house-place was tidied up more neatly than was usual; the breakfast table was set in the window: two places were laid for his wife and himself, and one for Pippany Webster; there was a fragrant smell of hot coffee; and Rhoda was frying bacon at the fire. She half-turned towards him as he entered, and Perris, dull of comprehension as he was, noticed that she was very pale, that there were dark shadows under her eyes, and that in the quick look which she gave him there was some expression which he had never seen there before. He sat down, staring at her, and as he stared he saw her face suddenly suffused with colour.

"Breakfast 'll be ready in a minute," she said, turning away from him to bend over the frying-pan. "The bacon's nearly done."

"Ye're none looking so well this morning, my lass," remarked Perris, not unkindly. "It's a soft thing to lig yerself down and fall asleep on that there old settle as ye've got into t' habit o' doin'. What's t' matter, like, my lass?"

"It's naught," replied Rhoda. "I've a headache."

"Happen a cup o' coffee 'll improve it," said Perris. "Gow, ye were as white as a mork when I come in, and now ye've turned as red as a rose I I've no doubt," he continued, rubbing his bony knees with his great hands, and still lost in his surprise that Rhoda should be so quiet, "I've no doubt 'at ye were upset yesterday, my lass, 'cause I didn't come home, and again last night because o' that matter o' losing t' rebate money. Now, that there rebate money—"

"What's the use of talking about it?" said Rhoda. "It's done now. All the talking in the world won't alter that. When a thing's done—it's done!"

"I'm none so sure about that there," said Perris, gaining confidence because of his wife's unusual placability. "I'm none goin' to lose my brass wi'out an effort to find it. You see, my lass, it's true 'at I were a bit overcome wi' t' drink—ye know what these here rent dinners is, and I'm none used to drinkin' sherry wines and suchlike—and t' truth is 'at I went to yon owd wheatstack to sleep it off a bit. But I had that there brass i' my pocket when I went there, and it weren't i' my pocket when I comed home. That's t' truth, Rhoda. An'—"

The scraping of feet outside the door announced the arrival of Pippany Webster for breakfast. He came in and took his accustomed place, and Rhoda, putting the fried bacon on the table, nudged her husband's elbow.

"Say no more now," she whispered. "Wait a bit."

Perris made no answer beyond a stare: he pulled the dish of bacon towards him and began serving the rashers while Rhoda poured out the coffee.

"You needn't give me any bacon," she said suddenly. "I don't want any."

And instead of sitting down at the table, she drank her coffee as, she moved about the house-place, doing one small job after another. Perris, unobservant as he was, noticed that she finished her first cup quickly, and helped herself to another before he had done little more than taste his own.

"Ye seem uncommon dry this morning, my lass," he said. "I hope ye're none goin' to be badly."

"I'm all right," she answered. But she finished the second cup as if she was still thirsty as when she first drank: that done, she went upstairs, and they heard her moving about in the bedchamber. When she came down Pippany Webster had finished his breakfast and was going out. Rhoda stopped him with a word. "I want that cow-house cleaning out," she said, turning to Perris. "It wasn't touched yesterday."

"Theer wor no chance o' cleanin' t' cow-house out yisterda'," said Pippany. T' maister theer said I wor to stick to t' tonnups all day."

"Now then, away and get it done wi'," commanded Perris. "Do it t' first thing."

When Pippany had gone into the farmyard, Rhoda closed the door and turned to her husband. She sat down at the end of the table, between the door and the window, and in such a position that her face was in the shadow of the window curtain. Perris, lighting his clay pipe with a live coal from the fire, looked at her curiously.

"Ye're still paleish, like, my lass," he remarked. "I hope—"

"I'm all right, I tell you," she said hurriedly. "Now then, what about this money. I didn't want you to say aught before Pippany Webster. Where do you say you lost it?"

Perris, always ready to be garrulous, sat down contentedly in the easy-chair by the fire and sucked at his pipe.

"Now, ye see, it were this here way, Rhoda, my lass," he began. "Ye see, there's no denyin' 'at I were the worse for a drop o' drink. And so, thinks I, I'll away and lie down for a piece behind yon owd wheatstack t' Four-Acre and sleep it off. And certain sure I am 'at when I went there I had that brass i' my pocket."

"How much?" asked Rhoda.

"There 'ud be three sovereigns and a half-sovereign, and a lot o' silver money," answered Perris. "I werrn't that overcome 'at I didn't know what I spent down at t' Bear. I know it were there—it must ha' been there. Why, now then, I slept a lot longer nor what I thowt to do, and when I wakkened I come straight home. And then when I were goin' to bring t' brass out to hand over to ye, my lass, it werrn't there! Didn't I say at t' time 'at I must ha' been robbed? An' I must ha' been!—there's no two ways about it."

Rhoda made no answer. She was sitting with her hands folded in her lap, and she watched Perris in a dull, apathetic fashion, as if he talked of something in which she had no immediate concern or special interest. And Perris went on, glad to hear himself talk.

"Ye see, my lass, there's a footpath across yon fields," lie said. "It goes, as ye're aware, reightaways up fro' t' chappil across my land and over t' high ground as far as Mestur Taffendale's place at t' Limepits. Ye know it, my lass."

Rhoda started.

"Yes," she said in a low voice "I know it."

"Well, ye see, if there's tramps about they might take that there footpath," continued Perris. "And if so be as a feller o' that sort chanced to see me lyin' down at t' back o' yon wheatstack, he could ha' picked my pocket while I were asleep."

Rhoda got up from her seat and began to clear the breakfast things away.

"Wasn't yon Pippany hoeing turnips in the near field to that wheatstack yesterday afternoon?" she asked suddenly.

"He wor, he wor, my lass," replied Perris. "Yes, he were there, were Pippany. He were i' t' Four-Acre and I were i' t' Five-Acre. But he see'd nobody crossin' them fields, 'ceptin' t' parson childer, an' their governess, and t' dog. I axed Pippany about that there this mornin'."

"You'd a deal better have asked him if he'd robbed you," said Rhoda. "If you were so far gone as all that, what had he to do but put his hand in your pocket? He was there, and I'll lay aught he saw you. And I'll lay aught he's got that money."

Perris, at first hearing this suggestion with an incredulous stare, suddenly leapt to his feet and banged the table.

"By Gow, I niver thowt o' that, Rhoda!" he exclaimed, "Of course, he were there i' t' next field. I'll break every bone i' his body, t' thievin'—"

"Stop a bit," said Rhoda. She pushed Perris back as he made for the door, and motioned to him to sit down again. "I'll call him, and we'll see what he has to say to me. You hold your tongue till I give you the word."

She opened the door, and, going out into the yard, called Pippany from the cow-house. Pippany came slowly across the fold, resentful and grumpy.

"Now then, what is it?" he demanded, as he came inside. "I no sooiner get agate on one job nor I'm called off to another."

Rhoda, who had remained by the door, shut it and set her back against it. She folded her arms and fixed Pippany with a stern look.

"Where's that money you took out of your master's pocket yesterday afternoon when he was asleep?" she demanded. "Hand it out!"

Pippany's jaw dropped, and his weak knees suddenly assumed a new degree of weakness. He was amazed by the directness of Rhoda's charge, and the first thought which flashed into his brain was that he had been watched.

"Now, then, none of your lies!" said Rhoda, quick to detect the signs of Pippany's guilt. "Out with it!"

Pippany recovered his wits. He would brazen matters out.

"Out wi' what?" he demanded. "I've nowt o' t' maister's—I niver set ees on t' maister fro' yisterda' mornin' till this mornin'."

"You set eyes on him when he was asleep behind that old wheatstack, and you took his money out of his pocket," asserted Rhoda. "You thought nobody was watching you, but other folks can look through hedges as well as you. Now then, out with it!"

"I wish I may be struck down dead if ever—" began Pippany.

Rhoda nodded to Perris. Perris sprang up and seized his man in a firm grip. Rhoda advanced on Pippany as he began to kick and scream.

"Hold him tight while I see what he's got in his pockets," she said. "We'll soon find out what he has about him."

"I'll hev' t' law on both on yer!" yelled Pippany, struggling in Perris's firm grasp. "Ye can't stand to 'sault a body i' this way! I'll summons both on yer afore afore t' magistrates I'll—"

Rhoda went through Pippany's pockets in thorough fashion, laying their contents on the table as she drew them out. She found some copper and silver in his breeches: in his waistcoat pocket she discovered the tobacco-box. A sudden inspiration prompted her to open it. From the tightly compressed tobacco she produced three sovereigns and a half-sovereign, and at the sight of them Perris shook Pippany until his teeth chattered in his jaws.

"There!" said Rhoda. "You'll go to prison for that, you thief! I knew you'd got it."

"It's—it's mine, I tell you!" screamed Pippany. "It's mi savin's, and ye can't stand to rob a body like that there! I'll—"

In the midst of Pippany's vociferation and moans the door opened. Taffendale, spick and span, walked in, and stood astonished at the sight which presented itself.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "I—I couldn't make anybody hear, so I came in. What's the matter?"

Rhoda, who had turned very pale at the sight of Taffendale, and had as suddenly flushed crimson, gave the visitor a swift look from beneath her eyelids.

"Pippany Webster's been robbing his master," she said in a low voice. "We've just found the money on him."

Perris gave Pippany another savage shake.

"Ho'd yer wisht!" he commanded. "Aye, he's been robbin' me, Mestur Taffendale. Theer's t' money—Rhoda there found it i' his bacca-box. What would you do wi' him, sir?—would you take him down to t' policeman?"

"For the present I should kick him out," said Taffendale, bestowing a careless look on Pippany. "He can't get far away."

Perris wasted no time in carrying this counsel into effect. He ran Pippany to the open door and kicked him into the fold with a force which landed his victim on all fours in the manure. That done, he came back, grinning all over his face.

"Ecod, that'll learn him a lesson!" he said, panting. "Aye, robbed me o' summat like four pound, did t' feller. Sit you down, Mestur Taffendale, sir: we'm proud to see you i' our house, an' I hope—"

"No, thank you," said Taffendale. "I promised your wife the other day that I'd give you a bit of advice about your farm, so if you like, we'll walk round it, and see how things are—I've an hour or so to spare this morning."

Perris picked up his old hat and clapped it on. "Why, I'm sure it's very good on your part, sir," he said. "We'm deeply obliged to you i' many ways. Well, we'll step out then, sir."

Rhoda stood in the window and watched the two men go down the fold together and into the fields. When they were out of sight, she sat down in Perris's chair, and for a long time stared listlessly into the fire. But she was busy enough when Perris came back at noon, rubbing his hands and chuckling.

"He's a reight un to help a body, is yon Mestur Taffendale," he exclaimed. "He's goin' to help us reight: we'm goin' to hey all sorts o' benefits fro' him."

Rhoda made no comment. She was not thinking so much of the benefits which Perris spoke of as of the fact that she and Taffendale had fallen in love with each other.