times," which comforted more than one of Jack's heartstrings. Phoebe's
mother paid respect to his sense and promptitude. He had acted exactly
as she would have done.

"Daddy was right enough about yon lad," she admitted. "He's not one to
let the grass grow under his feet."

And she gave him a good breakfast whilst the horse was being "put to."
It pleased her that Jack jumped up and left half a delicious cold
tea-cake behind him when the cart-wheels grated outside. Mrs. Shaw sent
Phoebe to put the cake in his pocket, and "the Measter" helped Jack in
and took the reins. He said he would "see Daddy Darwin through it," and
added the weight of his opinion to that of the constable, that the
pigeons had been taken to "a beastly low place" (as he put it) that had
lately been set up for pigeon-shooting in the outskirts of the
neighboring town.

They paused no longer at the Dovecot than was needed to hustle Daddy
Darwin on to the seat beside Master Shaw, and for Jack to fill his
pockets with peas, and take his place beside the constable. He had
certain ideas of his own on the matter, which were not confused by the
jogtrot of the light cart, which did give a final jumble to poor Daddy
Darwin's faculties.

No wonder they were jumbled! The terrors of the night past, the shock of
the morning, the completeness of the loss, the piteous sight in the
pigeon-house, remorseful shame, and then--after all these years, during
which he had not gone half a mile from his own hearthstone--to be set up
for all the world to see, on the front seat of a market-cart, back to
back with the parish constable, and jogged off as if miles were nothing,