You should know them.

Yes, Jim Trenchard, the man at Clinton, is a few years senior to myself.

He was priest when I was deacon in--let me see--dear me, how the years fly--in--'pon my word, how time goes!" All of which gave Seymour to understand that the Rev.James Trenchard was a failure in life, although a good enough fellow.

Then it was that suddenly, in the heart of that warm and cosy drawing-room, Hugh Seymour was, sharply, as though by a douche of cold water, awakened to the fact that he must see Clinton St.Mary again.

It appeared to him, now, with its lanes, its hedges, the village green, the moor, the Borhaze Road, the pirates, yes, and the Scarecrow.