But the flour was so bad as to be uneatable.

As I parted with Tibbald that morning he whispered to me, as he leaned over the hatch, to say a good word for him with Hilary about the throw of oak that was going on in one part of the Chace.

'If you was to speak to he, he could speak to the steward, and may be I could get a stick or two at a bargain'-- with a wink.

Tibbald did a little in buying and selling timber, and, indeed, in many other things.

Pleased as he was to show me the mill, and to talk about it by the hour together, the shrewd old fellow still had an eye to business.
After a while, in walking along the footpaths of the meadows and by the woods, a feeling grew upon me that it would be pleasant to know something of their history.