A ride down to Sussex to see ghosts would be an odd
experience; but an undigested dinner of tea is the very grandmother of
ghosts; and he accused it of confusing him, sight and mind. Out of the
gate, now for the turning to the right, and on. He turned. He must have
previously turned wrongly somewhere--and where? A light in a cottage
invited him to apply for the needed directions. The door was opened by
a woman, who had never heard tell of The Crossways, nor had her husband,
nor any of the children crowding round them. A voice within ejaculated:
'Crassways!' and soon upon the grating of a chair, an old man, whom the
woman named her lodger, by way of introduction, presented himself with
his hat on, saying: 'I knows the spot they calls Crassways,' and he led.
Redworth understood the intention that a job was to be made of it, and
submitting, said: 'To the right, I think.' He was bidden to come along,
if he wanted 'they Crassways,' and from the right they turned to the
left, and further sharp round, and on to a turn, where the old man,
otherwise incommunicative, said: 'There, down thik theer road, and a
post in the middle.'

'I want a house, not a post!' roared Redworth, spying a bare space.

The old man despatched a finger travelling to his nob. 'Naw, there's
ne'er a house. But that's crassways for four roads, if it 's crassways,
you wants.'

They journeyed backward. They were in such a maze of lanes that the
old man was master, and Redworth vowed to be rid of him at the first
cottage. This, however, they were long in reaching, and the old man
was promptly through the garden-gate, hailing the people and securing
'information, before Redworth could well hear. He smiled at the dogged
astuteness of a dense-headed old creature determined to establish a
claim to his fee. They struck a lane sharp to the left.

'You're Sussex?' Redworth asked him, and was answered: 'Naw; the
Sheers.'

Emerging from deliberation, the old man said: 'Ah'm a Hampshireman.'

'A capital county!'

'Heigh!' The old man heaved his chest. 'Once!'

'Why, what has happened to it?'

'Once it were a capital county, I say. Hah! you asks me what have
happened to it. You take and go and look at it now. And down heer'll
be no better soon, I tells 'em. When ah was a boy, old Hampshire was
a proud country, wi' the old coaches and the old squires, and Harvest
Homes, and Christmas merryings.--Cutting up the land! There's no pride
in livin' theer, nor anywher