"Master Tom," said the old man earnestly, almost with an offended
air, "all your things is just as you left them. A bit of airing
before the fire an' they'll be all right. 'Twill be a bit of a
distraction like, a little riding and wild-fowling now and agen.
You'll find the folk around here has hard and bitter minds towards
you. They hasn't forgotten nor forgiven. No one'll come nigh
you, so you'd best get what distraction you can with horse and
dog. They'm good company, too."
Old George hobbled away to give his orders, and Stoner, feeling
more than ever like one in a dream, went upstairs to inspect
"Master Tom's" wardrobe. A ride was one of the pleasures dearest
to his heart, and there was some protection against immediate
discovery of his imposture in the thought that none of Tom's
aforetime companions were likely to favour him with a close
inspection. As the interloper thrust himself into some tolerably
well-fitting riding cords he wondered vaguely what manner of
misdeed the genuine Tom had committed to set the whole countryside
against him. The thud of quick, eager hoofs on damp earth cut
short his speculations. The roan cob had been brought up to the
side door.
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