me of Mrs. Swancourt's servants have been
here--they ran in out of the rain when going for a walk--and I assure
you the state of their bonnets was frightful.'

'How's the folks? We've been over to Castle Boterel, and what wi'
running and stopping out of the storms, my poor head is beyond
everything! fizz, fizz fizz; 'tis frying o' fish from morning to night,'
said a cracked voice in the doorway at this instant.

'Lord so's, who's that?' said Mrs. Smith, in a private exclamation,
and turning round saw William Worm, endeavouring to make himself look
passing civil and friendly by overspreading his face with a large smile
that seemed to have no connection with the humour he was in. Behind him
stood a woman about twice his size, with a large umbrella over her head.
This was Mrs. Worm, William's wife.

'Come in, William,' said John Smith. 'We don't kill a pig every day.
And you, likewise, Mrs. Worm. I make ye welcome. Since ye left Parson
Swancourt, William, I don't see much of 'ee.'

'No, for to tell the truth, since I took to the turn-pike-gate line,
I've been out but little, coming to church o' Sundays not being my duty
now, as 'twas in a parson's family, you see. However, our boy is able to
mind the gate now, and I said, says I, "Barbara, let's call and see John
Smith."'

'I am sorry to hear yer pore head is so bad still.'

'Ay, I assure you that frying o' fish is going on for nights and days.
And, you know, sometimes 'tisn't only fish, but rashers o' bacon and
inions. Ay, I can hear the fat pop and fizz as nateral as life; can't I,
Barbara?'

Mrs. Worm, who had been all this time engaged in closing her umbrella,
corroborated this statement, and now, coming indoors, showed herself to
be a wide-faced, comfortable-looking woman, with a wart upon her cheek,
bearing a small tuft of hair in its centre.

'Have ye ever tried anything to cure yer noise, Maister Worm?' inquired
Martin Cannister.

'Oh ay; bless ye, I've tried everything. Ay, Providence is a merciful
man, and I have hoped He'd have found it out by this time, living so
many years in a parson's family, too, as I have, but 'a don't seem to
relieve me. Ay, I be a poor wambling man, and life's a mint o' trouble!'

'True, mournful true, William Worm. 'Tis so. The world wants looking to,
or 'tis all sixes and sevens wi' us.'

'Take your things off, Mrs. Worm,' said Mrs. Smith. 'We be rather in a
muddle, to tell the truth, for my son is just dropped in from Ind