you can put 'em anywheres.'

'Oh, I'll see to 'em.'

She sat down and watched him tie the knots of the last parcel.

'There's some people as is real ill-natured,' she said presently, in an
angry voice.

'Aye?' said John, looking up sharply. 'What are they sayin now?'

'It's Muster Saunders. 'Ee's allus sayin nassty things about other
folks. And there'd be plenty of fault to be found with 'im, if onybody
was to try. An Sally Saunders eggs him on dreadful.'

Saunders was the village smith, a tall, brawny man, of great size and
corresponding wisdom, who had been the village arbiter and general
councillor for a generation. There was not a will made in Clinton Magna
that he did not advise upon; not a bit of contentious business that he
had not a share in; not a family history that he did not know. His
probity was undisputed; his ability was regarded with awe; but as he had
a sharp tongue and was no respecter of persons, there was of course an
opposition.

John took a seat on the wooden box he had just been cording, and mopped
his brow. His full cheeks were crimson, partly with exertion, partly
with sudden annoyance.

'What's 'ee been sayin now? Though it doan't matter a brass farthin to
me what 'ee says.'