yards of 'ee dozens of times, with a sight more of birds than that
poor one."

"Yes--'tis not our greatest doings that the world gets wind of," said
the furmity-woman, who, lately settled in this purlieu, sat among
the rest. Having travelled a great deal in her time she spoke with
cosmopolitan largeness of idea. It was she who presently asked Jopp what
was the parcel he kept so snugly under his arm.

"Ah, therein lies a grand secret," said Jopp. "It is the passion of
love. To think that a woman should love one man so well, and hate
another so unmercifully."

"Who's the object of your meditation, sir?"

"One that stands high in this town. I'd like to shame her! Upon my life,
'twould be as good as a play to read her love-letters, the proud piece
of silk and wax-work! For 'tis her love-letters that I've got here."

"Love letters? then let's hear 'em, good soul," said Mother Cuxsom.
"Lord, do ye mind, Richard, what fools we used to be when we were
younger? Getting a schoolboy to write ours for us; and giving him a
penny, do ye mind, not to tell other folks what he'd put inside, do ye
mind?"

By this time Jopp had pushed his finger under the seals, and unfastened
the letters, tumbling them over and picking up one here and there at
random, which he read aloud. These passages soon began to uncover the
secret which Lucetta had so earnestly hoped to keep buried, though the
epistles, being allusive only, did not make it altogether plain.

"Mrs. Farfrae wrote that!" said Nance Mockridge. "'Tis a humbling thing
for us, as respectable women, that one of the same sex could do it. And
now she's avowed herself to another man!"

"So much the better for her," said the aged furmity-woman. "Ah, I saved
her from a real bad marriage, and she's never been the one to thank me."

"I say, what a good foundation for a skimmity-ride," said Nance.

"True," said Mrs. Cuxsom, reflecting. "'Tis as good a ground for a
skimmity-ride as ever I knowed; and it ought not to be wasted. The last
one seen in Casterbridge must have been ten years ago, if a day."

At this moment there was a shrill whistle, and the landlady said to the
man who had been called Charl, "'Tis Jim coming in. Would ye go and let
down the bridge for me?"

Without replying Charl and his comrade Joe rose, and receiving a lantern
from her went out at the back door and down the garden-path, which ended
abruptly at the edge of the stream already mentioned. Beyond the stream
was