You mustn't come trespassing here.

Squire won't have it." "Trespassing in a churchyard! Why it belongs to all the world." "Nay, this one belongs to the Lord o' the manor." "Well, we won't hurt your church.

Who keeps the key ?" "Squire Raby." Old George from this moment followed them about everywhere, grumbling at their heels, like a mastiff.
Grotait, however, treated him with cool contempt, and proceeded to make a sketch of the door, and a little map showing how the church could be approached from Hillsborough on foot without passing through Cairnhope village.

This done, he went back with Parkin to the inn, and thence to Hillsborough.
It was old Christmas Eve.

Henry was working at his forge, little dreaming of danger.