"Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. A world of haystacks, bean-stacks, and strawricks flanked the granges adjoining his habitation; the yard was crowded with poultry, pigeons were feeding at his feet, cattle were being driven towards the stall, horses led to the stable, a large mastiff was rattling his chain, and stalking majestically in front of his kennel, while a number of farming-men were passing and repassing about their various occupations. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. My business is with Lady Trafford.
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