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She did not think about them, even; they told less on her than on any person present. She a witch! and the silver glittering Avon, and the drowning woman she had seen in her childhood at Barford, at home in England, were before her, and her eyes fell before her doom.
Never more should Lois see father or mother on earth; they slept, calm and still, in Barford churchyard, careless of what became of their orphan child, as far as earthly manifestations of care or love went. And Clemence lay there too, bound down in her grassy bed by withes of the briar-rose, which Lois had trained over those three precious graves before leaving England for ever.
"Nowt o' t' sort!" retorted the blacksmith. "He'd be safe on t' sound part o' t' bridge it's only a piece on 't that gave way. I say that theer idea wants in-quirin' into. An' theer's another thing what wor that lawyer-clerk chap fro' Barford Pratt doin' about theer? What reight had he to be prowlin' round t' neighbourhood o' that bridge, and at that time?
John Mallathorpe, a well-known Barford manufacturer, meeting a sudden death by the falling of his mill chimney a catastrophe which also caused the deaths of several of his employees. Mr. John Mallathorpe died intestate, and the estate at Normandale passed to the young gentleman who met such a sad fate on Saturday afternoon. Mr. Collingwood set down his cup, and dropped the newspaper.
It asked for a good, clear copy of Hopkinson's History of Barford and then it went on, "If you should come across a copy of what is, I believe, a very rare tract or pamphlet, Customs of the Court Leet of the Manor of Barford, published, I think, about 1720, I should be glad to pay you any price you like to ask for it in reason."
But she restrained all sign of it, and when she had done his bidding she looked at him as calmly as he looked at her. "I am to insert this in the Barford papers next week," she said. "And what then?" "Then you'll get a lot of applications for the job," chuckled Pratt. "There'll be mine amongst them. You can throw most of 'em in the fire. Keep a few for form's sake. Profess to discuss them with Mr.
"What's Eddication? Did either o' you ever 'ear tell of Joseph Arch?" "Can't say we 'ave." "He was born no farther away than Barford Barford-on-Avon. But I s'pose your schoolmaster's too busy teachin' you the pianner." Tilda digested the somewhat close reasoning for a moment, and answered "It's fair sickenin', the amount o' time spent on the pianner.
For the next-of-kin would never rest until either Parrawhite came to light, or it was satisfactorily established that he was dead and if search begun to be made in Barford, where might not that search end? Unmoved? cool? if Eldrick had turned back, he would have found that Pratt had suddenly given way to a fit of nerves. But that soon passed, and Pratt began to think.
Did he do something particular after half-past four?" "There was a post came in just about then, sir," answered Jabey. "There was an American letter that's it, sir just in front of you. Mr. Bartle read it, and asked me if we'd got a good clear copy of Hopkinson's History of Barford. I reminded him that there was a copy amongst the books that had been bought from Mallathorpe's Mill some time ago."
Now he'll tell you what he wants to see you about." "If you'll allow me to explain why I called on you, Mrs. Mallathorpe," said Collingwood, "I don't suppose you ever heard of me but you know, at any rate, the name of my grandfather, Mr. Antony Bartle, the bookseller, of Barford? My grandfather is dead he died very suddenly last night." Mrs. Mallathorpe and Nesta murmured words of polite sympathy.
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