on't 'old wi' sweet-stuff, she says, sich a pack o'
nonsense. She'd stuff herself sick when she wor 'is age. Why shouldn't
_ee_ be happy, same as her? There ain't much to make a child 'appy in
_that_ 'ouse. Westall, ee's that mad about them poachers over Tudley
End; ee's like a wild bull at 'ome. I told Isabella ee'd come to
knockin' ov her about _some_ day, though ee did speak so oily when ee
wor a courtin'. Now she knows as I kin see a thing or two," said Mrs.
Jellison, significantly. Her manner, Wharton noticed, kept always the
same gay philosophy, whatever subject turned up.

"Why, that's an old story--that Tudley End business--" said Marcella,
rising. "I should have thought Westall might have got over it by now."

"But bless yer, ee says it's goin' on as lively as iver. Ee says ee
knows they're set on grabbin' the birds t'other side the estate, over
beyond Mellor way--ee's got wind of it--an' ee's watchin' night an' day
to see they don't do him no bad turn _this_ month, bekase o' the big
shoot they allus has in January. An' lor', ee do speak drefful bad o'
_soom_ folks," said Mrs. Jellison, with an amused expression. "You know
some on 'em, miss, don't yer?" And the old woman, who had begun toying
with her potatoes, slanted her fork over her shoulder so as to point
towards the Hurds' cottage, whereof the snow-laden roof could be seen
conspicuously through the little lattice beside her, making sly eyes the
while at her visitor.

"I don't believe a word of it," said Marcella, impatiently. "Hurd has
been in good work since October, and has no need to poach. Westall has a
down on him. You may tell him I think so, if you like."

"That I will," said Mrs. Jellison, cheerfully, opening the door for
them. "There's nobody makes 'im 'ear the treuth, nobbut me. I _loves_
naggin' ov 'im, ee's that masterful. But ee don't master _me_!"

"A gay old thing," said Wharton as they shut the gate behind them. "How
she does enjoy the human spectacle. And obstinate too. But you will find
the younger ones more amenable."

"Of course," said Marcella, with dignity. "I have a great many names
already. The old people are always difficult. But Mrs. Jellison will
come round."

"Are you going in here?"

"Please."

Wharton knocked at the Hurds' door, and Mrs. Hurd opened.

The cottage was thick with smoke. The chimney only drew when the door
was left open. But the wind to-day was so bitter that mother and
children preferred the smoke t