Vainly was it explained to her that rich landowners spent no end of money on breeding and preserving pheasants, grouse, and the like,--she would hear none of it.
"Stuff and nonsense," she said sharply.

"The birds breed by themselves quite fast enough if let alone,--and the Lord intended them so to do for every one's use and eating, not for a few mean and selfish money-grubs who'd shoot and sell their own babies if they could get game prices for them!" And she had a certain sympathy with Bill Bush and his nefarious proceedings.

As long as he succeeded in evading the police, so long would he be welcome at the "Trusty Man," but if once he were to be clapped into jail the door of his favourite "public" would be closed to him.

Not that Miss Tranter was a woman who "went back," as the saying is, on her friends, but she had to think of her licence, and could not afford to run counter to those authorities who had the power to take it away from her.
"I'm a-shrivellin' away for want o' suthin' to do," proceeded Bill.

"My legs aint no show at all to what they once was." And he looked down at those members complacently.