The dinner proceeded, and, at length, the dessert, composed of curds and cream, was served.

“Isn’t that beautiful?” said Mrs. Bolton, as she poured some of the cream received from Mrs. Halpin into a saucer of curds, which she handed to her husband.

Bolton took the curds and ate them.  Moreover, he praised the cream; for, how could he help doing so?  Were not his wife’s eyes on him, and her ears open?  But never in his life had he found so little pleasure in eating.

“Do you know,” said Mrs. Bolton, after she had served the curds and said a good deal in favour of the cream, “that I promise myself much pleasure in having such good neighbours?  Mrs. Halpin I’ve always heard spoken of in the highest terms.  She’s a sister of Judge Caldwell, with whose family we were so intimate at Haddington.”

“You must be in error about that.”

“No.  Mrs. Caldwell often spoke to me about her, and said that she had written to her sister that we talked of buying this farm.”

“I never knew this before,” said Mr. Bolton.

“Didn’t you!  I thought I had mentioned it.”

“No.”

“Well it’s true.  And, moreover, Mrs. Caldwell told me, before we left, that she had received a letter from her sister, in which she spoke of us, and in which she mentioned that her husband had often heard you spoken of by the judge, and promised himself great pleasure in your society.”

Mr. Bolton pushed back his chair from the table, and, rising, left the room.  He could not bear to hear another word.

“Is my horse ready, Ben?” said he, as he came into the open air.

“Yes, sir,” replied Ben.

“Very well.  Bring him round.”

“Are you going now?” asked Mrs. Bolton, coming to the door, as Ben led up the horse.

“Yes.  I wish to be home early, and so must start early.”

And Bolton sprang into the saddle.

But for the presence of his wife, it is more than probable that he would have quietly directed Ben to go and rehang the gate, and thus re-establish Mr. Halpin’s right of way through his premises.  But, this would have been an exposure of himself to his better-half that he had not the courage to make.  So he rode away.  His purpose was to visit the city, which was three miles distant, on business.  As he moved along in the direction of the gate through which he was to pass on his way to the turnpike, he had to go very near the spot where Ben had been at work in the morning.  The unhinged gate lay upon the ground where, according to his directions, it had been thrown; and the place it formerly occupied was closed up by four strong bars, firmly attached to the posts.

Mr. Bolton didn’t like the looks of this at all.  But it was done; and he was not the man to look back when he had once undertaken to do a thing.

As he was riding along, just after passing from his grounds, he met Mr. Dix, who paused as Bolton came up.