Let me go, I say--"

As the hollibubber still clung to his arm, he gave a push and broke
loose. The old man tumbled beside the path with his head against the
potato fence. Zeb with a curse took to his heels and ran; nor for a
hundred yards did he glance behind.

When at last he flung a look over his shoulder, the hollibubber had
picked himself up and was kneeling in the pathway. His hands were
clasped and lifted.

"Too late!" shouted Zeb again, and dashed on without a second look.



CHAPTER IX.


YOUNG ZEB WINS HIS SOUL BACK.

At half-past nine, next morning, the stranger sat in the front room of
the cottage vacated by the Lewarnes. On a rough table, pushed into a
corner, lay the remains of his breakfast. A plum-coloured coat with
silver buttons hung over the back of a chair by his side, and a
waist-coat and silver-laced hat to match rested on the seat.
For the wedding was to take place in an hour and a half.

He sat in frilled shirt, knee-breeches and stockings, and the sunlight
streamed in upon his dark head as he stooped to pull on a shoe.
The sound of his whistling filled the room, and the tune was, "Soldier,