rm rigid but unsteady, and the furrows on
his brow ran into and crossed one another like the lines on a tragic
mask. He was about to proceed, and I to protest against his doing so,
when an incident occurred which relieved the tension and gave a new turn
to the course of events.

Mrs. Perryman, who had left the room when the farmer resumed the history
of the Tall Hat, though not to go beyond the reach of hearing, now
emerged from the shadows and said in a quiet voice, "Sam, stop talking a
minute, and attend to business. Snarley Bob's at the back door, and
wants to know if you're going to keep him waiting all night. He come for
his wages at five o'clock, and it's struck six some time ago."

"Give him a mug o' ale, and tell him to go home," said Sam.

"I've given him two mugs already, and he says he must see you afore he
goes."

"Wait where you are," said Mr. Perryman to me, "and I'll be back in half
a shake."

The Perrymans withdrew together, leaving me alone. I listened to the
voices in the next room and could distinguish those of the farmer and
his wife, urgent but subdued. I could not hear the voice of Snarley Bob.
Then I drew conclusions, and searched in the recesses of my memory for a
forgotten clue. Gazing into the fire, I saw three separate strands of
smoke roll themselves into a single column, and rush upwards into the
darkness of the chimney. The thing acted as a stimulus to recollection,
for it spoke of three human lives flowing onwards to the Unknown in a
single stream of destiny: Mrs. Abel, Farmer Perryman, Snarley Bob--and
further articulations would have followed had not the re-entry of the
Perrymans disturbed the process and plunged it back beneath the
threshold of consciousness. The farmer's wife sat down between us, in
front of the fire.

"I want to hear him finish the story of the Tall Hat," she said. "With
me by he's less likely to put the frilling on."

"Let's see--where was I?" said Perryman.

"You'd come to the place where you met the parson and his lady in the
churchyard," I said.

"Ha, so I had," replied the farmer. "I can see her at this very minute
just as she was. She looked----"

"Never mind what she _looked_ like: tell us what she _said_,"
interrupted Mrs. Perryman.

"She says, 'Good-morning, Mr. Perryman. How much?'--looking 'ard at my
'at all the time. I guessed she was up to some devilry, so I thought I
would put her wrong a bit. 'A guinea, ma'am,' says I. She looks at my
'at