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A thin silver-grey mist floating delicately above the river Rest and dispersing itself in light wreaths across the flowering banks and fields, announced the breaking of the dawn,—­and John Walden, who had passed a restless night, threw open his bedroom window widely, with a sense of relief that at last the time had come again for movement and action.  His blood was warm and tingling with suppressed excitement,—­he was ready for a fight, and felt disposed to enjoy it.  His message to Miss Vancourt had apparently failed,—­for on the previous evening Bainton had sent round word to say that he had been unable to see the lady before dinner, but that he was going to try again later on.  No result of this second attempt had been forthcoming, so Walden concluded that his gardener had received a possibly curt and complete rebuff from the new ‘Squire-ess,’ and had been too much disheartened by his failure to come and report it.

“Never mind!—­we’ll have a tussle for the trees!” said John to himself, as after his cold tubbing he swung his dumb-bells to and fro with the athletic lightness and grace of long practice; “If the villagers are prepared to contest Leach’s right to destroy the Five Sisters, I’ll back them up in it!  I will!  And I’ll speak my mind to Miss Vancourt too!  She is no doubt as apathetic and indifferent to sentiment as all her ‘set,’ but if I can prick her through her pachydermatous society skin, I’ll do it!”

Having got himself into a great heat and glow with this mental resolve and his physical exertions combined, he hastily donned his clothes, took his stoutest walking-stick, and sallied forth into the cool dim air of the as yet undeclared morning, the faithful Nebbie accompanying him.  Scarcely, however, had he shut his garden gate behind him when Bainton confronted him.

“Marnin’, Passon!”

“Oh, there you are!” said Walden—­“Well, now what’s going to be done?”

“Nothin’s goin’ to be done;” rejoined Bainton stolidly, with his usual inscrutable smile; “Unless m’appen Spruce is ‘avin’ every bone broke in his body ’fore we gets there.  Ye see, he ain’t got no written orders like,—­and mebbe Leach ’ull tell him he’s a liar and that Miss Vancourt’s instructions is all my eye!”

“Miss Vancourt’s instructions?” echoed Walden; “Has she given any?”

“Of coorse she has!” replied Bainton, triumphantly; “Which is that the trees is not to be touched on no account.  And she’s told Spruce, through me,—­which I bellowed it all into his ear,—­to go and meet Leach this marnin’ up by the Five Sisters and give him ’er message straight from the shoulder!”

Walden’s face cleared and brightened visibly.

“I’m glad—­I’m very glad!” he said; “I hardly thought she could sanction such an outrage—­but, tell me, how did you manage to give her my message?”