job too soon; so I'll get shot of the sight
Of your mug, and have one lout the less to do for.
Come, frisk your feet, the pair of you; and go:
I've that to do which I must do alone.

(_As soon as PETER and MICHAEL are gone, BELL fills a basin with water
from a bucket, and carries it into the other room, shutting the door
behind her._)

EZRA:
To think she should go first, when I have had
One foot in the grave for hard on eleven-year!
I little looked to taste her funeral ham.

PART II

_An October afternoon, fifteen years later. There is no one in the room:
and the door stands open, showing a wide expanse of fell, golden in
the low sunshine. A figure is seen approaching along the cart-track:
and JUDITH ELLERSHAW, neatly dressed in black, appears at the door;
and stands, undecided, on the threshold. She knocks several times, but
no one answers: so she steps in, and seats herself an a chair near the
door. Presently a sound of singing is heard without: and BELL HAGGARD
is seen, coming over the bent, an orange-coloured kerchief about her
head, her skirt kilted to the knee, and her arms full of withered
bracken. She enters, humming: but stops, with a start, on seeing
JUDITH; drops the bracken; whips off her kerchief; and lets down her
skirt; and so appears as an ordinary cottage-wife._

JUDITH:
You're Mistress Barrasford?

BELL:
Ay; so they call me.

JUDITH:
I knocked; but no one answered; so, I've taken
The liberty of stepping in to rest.
I'm Judith Ellershaw.

BELL:
I've heard the name;
But can't just mind ... Ay! You're the hard-mouthed wench
That took the bit in her teeth, and bolted: although
You scarcely look it, either. Old Ezra used
To mumble your name, when he was raiming on
About the sovereigns Jim made off with: he missed
The money more than the son--small blame to him:
Though why grudge travelling-expenses to good-riddance?
And still, 'twas shabby to pinch the lot: a case
Of pot and kettle, but I'd have scorned to bag
The lot, and leave the old folk penniless.
'Twas hundreds Peter blabbed of--said our share
Wouldn't be missed--or I'd have never set foot
In Krindlesyke; to think I walked into this trap
For fifty-pound, that wasn't even here!
I might have kenned--Peter never told the truth,
Except by accident. I did ... and yet,
I came. I had to come: the old witch drew me.
But, Jim was greedy ...

JUDITH: