beyond what they would have paid at the old shops; added to which was the grievance of being compelled to put up with very inferior articles.

Dissatisfaction at this state of things had long been smouldering.

It grew and grew, threatening to break out into open rebellion, perhaps to bloodshed.

The neighbourhood cried shame upon Roy, and felt inclined to echo the cry upon Mrs.Verner; while Clay Lane openly avowed their belief that Peckaby's shop was Roy's shop, and that the Peckaby's were only put in to manage it.
One fearfully hot Monday morning, in the beginning of July, Lionel Verner was passing down Clay Lane.

In another week he would be away from Deerham.