The New Forest Spy | Page 8

started off at a smart trot in and out amongst the
great beeches, not traversing the way by which he had come, but
striking a bee-line for home.
CHAPTER FOUR.
A RAID ON THE LARDER.
Brackendene was the very model of an Elizabethan country house, with
clusters of twisted chimneys, and ivy clinging to the red bricks
everywhere that it could find a hold.
There was an attractive porch opening out upon the well-kept
pleasaunce, but, instead of going straight to it, Waller looked sharply to
right and left, saw nobody and heard nothing but a dull, distant thump,
thump, and the barking of a dog from somewhere at the back.
The next minute he was through one of the dining-room casements, and

crossed into the hall, where he stood listening for a moment or two to
the thump, thump, which now sounded nearer.
"That's Martha at her churn," he muttered. "How stupid it seems!
Anyone would think I was a thief."
He felt like one as he crossed the hall, opened a big oak door cautiously,
and made his way into the great red-brick-floored kitchen, where from
an opening to his left the thumping of the churn came louder still,
accompanied by a dull humming sound, something like the buzz of a
musical bee, but which was intended by the utterer to represent a tune.
Waller nodded his head with satisfaction, and went off to his right out
of the kitchen into a cool stone passage, and then through a door into a
stone-floored larder, whose wire-covered, ivy-shaded windows gave
upon the north.
But Waller Froy had no thought for the situation of the larder. His
attention was taken up by about three-quarters of a raised pork-pie,
which he took off the dish, and, after a moment's hesitation, drew his
big trout out of the creel and dabbed it in where the pie had stood,
making the latter take the fish's place in the creel.
"Make it taste a bit," muttered the boy. "Can't stop to find a cloth, and
he will be too hungry to notice. Now for some bread."
The larder was not his place, but the boy was quite at home there, due
to surreptitious visits connected with fishing excursions and provisions
for lunch.
Taking the great brown lid off a bread-pan, he placed it on the floor and
pounced upon a loaf, which he broke in two and crammed into his
fishing-creel. He then rose up and looked round, till his eyes lighted
upon a big jug full of creamy-looking milk, which he annexed at once,
and then made for the door, passed through the kitchen, where the
thumping and musical buzz still went on, made his way back to the
dining-room, and through the window again out into the garden, and
then passed breathlessly into the dense forest once again, panting

slightly from his exertions.
"I have as good a right to the things as anybody," he muttered, to quiet
his uneasy conscience, "and if Martha asks me if I took the pie I shall
say yes, of course. I am not going to enter into explanations. Let her
think I was hungry and wanted some lunch; and if she does think it's
my doing--oh!" he ejaculated, "she will know it was when she finds the
fish; and there--if I didn't leave the great cover of the pan on the floor!
Bother!" he ejaculated. "I am master when father's out, and I shall do as
I like. Wish I could," he grumbled, as he hurried along, not so fast as he
wished, for his way was rough and tangled, and the jug of milk was
very full, besides being an awkward thing to carry steadily where
brambles continually crossed the path and the thorny strands of the
dog-rose hung down from on high as if fishing for everyone who
passed. "I should like to think about what to do," mused Waller to
himself, "but it only makes one so uncomfortable. This fellow must be
one of the King's enemies, and if I am helping the King's enemies,
shan't I be committing high treason? Oh, bother!" he cried aloud. "I am
going to give a poor fellow who is starving something to eat, and,
enemy or no, I am sure if King George saw him starving he'd do the
same. There, I won't think about it any more."
He reached the spot where he had left his new acquaintance, in a state
of repentance because he had not lowered the milk by taking a good
draught, the consequence being that he had spilt a good deal.
All was perfectly still, and he began to wade through the ferns, and then
stopped to look straight before him, and then sharply to right and left.
"Why, he isn't a