We loitered half the morning round a cricketers’ booth in a field, where there was moderately good cricketing.  The people thought it of first-rate quality.  I told them I knew a fellow who could bowl out either eleven in an hour and a half.  One of the men frightened me by saying, ’By Gearge!  I’ll in with you into a gig, and off with you after that ther’ faller.’  He pretended to mean it, and started up.  I watched him without flinching.  He remarked that if I ’had not cut my lucky from school, and tossed my cap for a free life, he was ——­’ whatever may be expressed by a slap on the thigh.  We played a single-wicket side game, he giving me six runs, and crestfallen he was to find himself beaten; but, as I let him know, one who had bowled to Heriot for hours and stood against Saddlebank’s bowling, was a tough customer, never mind his age.

This man offered me his friendship.  He made me sit and eat beside him at the afternoon dinner of the elevens, and sent platefuls of food to the girl, where she was allowed to squat; and said he, ’You and I’ll tie a knot, and be friends for life.’

I replied, ‘With pleasure.’

We nodded over a glass of ale.  In answer to his questions, I stated that I liked farms, I would come and see his farm, I would stay with him two or three days, I would give him my address if I had one, I was on my way to have a look at Riversley Grange.

‘Hey!’ says he, ’Riversley Grange!  Well, to be sure now!  I’m a tenant of Squire Beltham’s, and a right sort of landlord, too.’

‘Oh!’ says I, ‘he’s my grandfather, but I don’t care much about him.’

‘Lord!’ says he.  ’What! be you the little boy, why, Master Harry Richmond that was carried off in the night, and the old squire shut up doors for a fortnight, and made out you was gone in a hearse!  Why, I know all about you, you see.  And back you are, hurrah!  The squire ’ll be hearty, that he will.  We’ve noticed a change in him ever since you left.  Gout’s been at his leg, off and on, a deal shrewder.  But he rides to hounds, and dines his tenants still, that he does; he’s one o’ th’ old style.  Everything you eat and drink’s off his estate, the day he dines his tenants.  No humbug ’bout old Squire Beltham.

I asked him if Sewis was alive.

‘Why, old Sewis,’ says he, ’you’re acquainted with old Sewis?  Why, of course you are.  Yes, old Sewis ’s alive, Master Harry.  And you bet me at single-wicket!  That ’ll be something to relate to ’em all.  By Gearge, if I didn’t think I’d got a nettle in my fist when I saw you pitch into my stumps.  Dash it! thinks I. But th’ old squire ’ll be proud of you, that he will.  My farm lies three miles away.  You look at a crow flying due South-east five minutes from Riversley, and he’s over Throckham farm, and there I ’ll drive ye to-night, and to-morrow, clean and tidy out o’ my wife’s soap and water, straight to Riversley.  Done, eh?  My name’s Eckerthy.  No matter where you comes from, here you are, eh, Master Harry?  And I see you last time in a donkey-basket, and here you come in breeches and defy me to singlewicket, and you bet me too!’