CHAPTER NINE.
DICK IS CALLED EARLY.
It was Friday night.

Dick had been over with the squire and two or three gentlemen interested in the great drain, to see how it progressed; and the lad had found the young engineer in charge of the works ready to ask him plenty of questions, such as one who had a keen love of the natural objects of the country would be likely to put.
The result was that Squire Winthorpe invited him over to the old Priory to come and make a fishing, shooting, or collecting trip whenever he liked.
"You are very hospitable, Mr Winthorpe," he said.
"Oh, nonsense! Shame if we who bring you people down from London to do us good here in the fens, could not be a little civil." This was after the inspection was over, the young engineer at liberty, and he was walking part of the way back with Dick.
"Well, I must frankly say, Mr--ought I to say Squire Winthorpe ?" "No, no, Mr Marston," was the laughing reply, "I am only a plain farmer.

It is the fashion down here to call a man with a few acres of his own a squire.

I'm squire, you see, of a lot of bog." "Which we shall make good land, Mr Winthorpe," said the engineer.

"But I was going to say it will be a treat to come over from my lonely lodgings to some one who will make me welcome, for I must say the common people here are rather ill-disposed." "Only snarling," said the squire.