ventured to say, as the case was next door to her, -

'It is very sad, is it not, Mrs Caffyn, that Polesden should be so
addicted to drink. I hope he did not disturb you last Saturday
night. I have given the constable directions to look after the
street more closely on Saturday evening, and if Polesden again
offends he must be taken up.'

Mrs Caffyn was behind her own counter. She had just served a
customer with two ounces of Dutch cheese, and she sat down on her
stool. Being rather a heavy woman she always sat down when she was
not busy, and she never rose merely to talk.

'Yes, it is sad, sir, and Polesden isn't no particular friend of
mine, but I tell you what's sad too, sir, and that's the way them
people are mucked up in that cottage. Why, their living room opens
straight on the road, and the wind comes in fit to blow your head
off, and when he goes home o' nights, there's them children a-
squalling, and he can't bide there and do nothing.'

'I am afraid, though, Mrs Caffyn, there must be something radically
wrong with that family. I suppose you know all about the eldest
daughter?'

'Yes, sir, I HAVE heard it: it wouldn't be Great Oakhurst if I
hadn't, but p'r'aps, sir, you've never been upstairs in that house,
and yet a house it isn't. There's just two sleeping-rooms, that's
all; it's shameful, it isn't decent. Well, that gal, she goes away
to service. Maybe, sir, them premises at the farm are also unbeknown
to you. In the back kitchen there's a broadish sort of shelf as Jim