making beestises o' yoursel's!"

There was a dead pause, for this suggestion applied too generally to be
met with a solitary response. At last one of the women said, with a
meaning glance at her husband,

"God bless the squire; he'll make some on us happy women if that's all!"

There then arose an almost unanimous murmur of approbation among the
female part of the audience; and the men looked at each other, and then
at the phenomenon, with a very hang-dog expression of countenance.

"Or, maw be," resumed Gaffer Solomons, encouraged to a fourth suggestion
by the success of its predecessor,--"maw be some o' the misseses ha' been
making a rumpus, and scolding their good men. I heard say in my
granfeyther's time, arter old Mother Bang nigh died o' the ducking-stool,
them 'ere stocks were first made for the women, out o' compassion like!
And every one knows the squire is a koind-hearted man, God bless 'un!"

"God bless 'un!" cried the men, heartily; and they gathered lovingly
round the phenomenon, like heathens of old round a tutelary temple. But
then there rose one shrill clamour among the females as they retreated
with involuntary steps towards the verge of the green, whence they glared
at Solomons and the phenomenon with eyes so sparkling, and pointed at
both with gestures so menacing, that Heaven only knows if a morsel of
either would have remained much longer to offend the eyes of the justly-
enraged matronage of Hazeldean, if fortunately Master Stirn, the squire's
right-hand man, had not come up in the nick of time.

Master Stirn was a formidable personage,--more formidable than the squire