'Is the good man come?' asked Nat Chapman. 'No,--I see we be here
afore him. And how is it with aged women to-night, Mrs. Martin?'

'Tedious traipsing enough with this one, Nat. Sit ye down. Well,
little Freddy, you don't wish in the morning that 'twere evening,
and at evening that 'twere morning again, do you, Freddy, trust ye
for it?'

'Now, who might wish such a thing as that, Mrs Martin?--nobody in
this parish?' asked Sammy Blore curiously.

'My lady is always wishing it,' spoke up Miss Tabitha Lark.

'Oh, she! Nobody can be answerable for the wishes of that onnatural
tribe of mankind. Not but that the woman's heart-strings is tried
in many aggravating ways.'

'Ah, poor woman!' said granny. 'The state she finds herself in--
neither maid, wife, nor widow, as you may say--is not the primest
form of life for keeping in good spirits. How long is it since she
has heard from Sir Blount, Tabitha?'

'Two years and more,' said the young woman. 'He went into one side
of Africa, as it might be, three St. Martin's days back. I can mind
it, because 'twas my birthday. And he meant to come out the other
side. But he didn't. He has never come out at all.'

'For all the world like losing a rat in a barley-mow,' said
Hezekiah. 'He's lost, though you know where he is.'