“Back into the yard?” said Hopkins, very slowly.

“Yes; back into the yard.”

“What,—­afore all their faces?”

“Yes; you’ve disobeyed me before all their faces?”

Hopkins paused a moment, looking away from the squire, and shaking his head as though he had need of deep thought, but by the aid of deep thought had come at last to a right conclusion.  Then he resumed the barrow, and putting himself almost into a trot, carried away his prize into the kitchen-garden.  At the pace which he went it would have been beyond the squire’s power to stop him, nor would Mr Dale have wished to come to a personal encounter with his servant.  But he called after the man in dire wrath that if he were not obeyed the disobedient servant should rue the consequences for ever.  Hopkins, equal to the occasion, shook his head as he trotted on, deposited his load at the foot of the cucumber-frames, and then at once returning to his master, tendered to him the key of the greenhouse.

“Master,” said Hopkins, speaking as best he could with his scanty breath, “there it is;—­there’s the key; of course I don’t want no warning, and doesn’t care about my week’s wages.  I’ll be out of the cottage afore night, and as for the work’us, I suppose they’ll let me in at once, if your honour’ll give ’em a line.”

Now as Hopkins was well known by the squire to be the owner of three or four hundred pounds, the hint about the workhouse must be allowed to have been melodramatic.

“Don’t be a fool,” said the squire, almost gnashing his teeth.

“I know I’ve been a fool,” said Hopkins, “about that ’ere doong; my feelings has been too much for me.  When a man’s feelings has been too much for him, he’d better just take hisself off, and lie in the work’us till he dies.”  And then he again tendered the key.  But the squire did not take the key, and so Hopkins went on.  “I s’pose I’d better just see to the lights and the like of that, till you’ve suited yourself, Mr Dale.  It ’ud be a pity all them grapes should go off, and they, as you may say, all one as fit for the table.  It’s a long way the best crop I ever see on ’em.  I’ve been that careful with ’em that I haven’t had a natural night’s rest, not since February.  There ain’t nobody about this place as understands grapes, nor yet anywhere nigh that could be got at.  My lord’s head man is wery ignorant; but even if he knew ever so, of course he couldn’t come here.  I suppose I’d better keep the key till you’re suited, Mr Dale.”

Then for a fortnight there was an interregnum in the gardens, terrible in the annals of Allington.  Hopkins lived in his cottage indeed, and looked most sedulously after the grapes.  In looking after the grapes, too, he took the greenhouses under his care; but he would have nothing to do with the outer gardens, took no wages, returning the amount sent to him back to the squire, and insisted with everybody that he had been dismissed.  He went about with some terrible horticultural implement always in his hand, with which it was said that he intended to attack Jolliffe; but Jolliffe prudently kept out of his way.