Tom Crinkett at Folking Caldigate thought that he had better take his companion where there would be the least chance of encountering many eyes.

He went therefore through the garden into the farmyard and along the road leading back to the dike, and then he walked backwards and forwards between the ferry, over the Wash, and the termination of the private way by which they had come.

The spot was not attractive, as far as rural prettiness was concerned.

They had, on one hand or the other as they turned, the long, straight, deep dike which had been cut at right angles to the Middle Wash; and around, the fields were flat, plashy, and heavy-looking with the mud of February.

But Crinkett for a while did not cease to admire everything.