.

"Well, I'm not in any way sure o' that," she observed. "When a man's too
good for a woman it's what we may call a Testymen' miracle. For the
worst wife as ivir lived is never so bad as a bad 'usband. There's a
suthin' in a man wot's real devil-like when it gits the uppermost of
'im--an' 'e's that crafty born that I've known 'im to be singin' hymns
one hour an' drinkin' 'isself silly the next. 'Owsomever, Mister Reay
seems a decent chap, forbye 'e do give 'is time to writin' which don't
appear to make 'is pot boil----"

"Ah, but he will be famous!" interrupted Mary exultantly. "I know he
will!"

"An' what's the good o' that?" enquired Mrs. Twitt. "If bein' famous is
bein' printed about in the noospapers, I'd rather do without it if I wos
'im. Parzon Arbroath got famous that way!" And she chuckled. "But the
great pint is that you an' 'e is a-goin' to be man an' wife, an' I'm
right glad to 'ear it, for it's a lonely life ye've been leadin' since
yer father's death, forbye ye've got a bit o' company in old David. An'
wot'll ye do with David when you're married?"

"He'll stay on with us, I hope," said Mary. "But this morning he has
gone away--and we don't know where he can have gone to."

Mrs. Twitt raised her eyes and hands in astonishment.

"Gone away?"

"Yes." And Mary showed her the letter Helmsley had written, and
explained how Angus Reay had started off to walk towards Minehead, in
the hope of overtaking the wanderer.

"Well, I never!" And Mrs. Twitt gave a short gasp of wonder. "Wants to
find employment, do 'e? The poor old innercent! Why, Twitt would 'a
given 'im a job in the stoneyard if 'e'd 'a known. He'll never find a
thing to do anywheres on the road at 'is age!"

And the news of David's sudden and lonely departure affected her more
powerfully than the prospect of Mary's marriage, which had, in the first
place, occupied all her mental faculties.

"An' that reminds me," she went on, "of 'ow the warnin' came to me
yesterday when I was a-goin' out to my wash-tub an' I slipt on a bit o'
potato peelin'. That's allus a sign of a partin' 'twixt friends. Put
that together with the lump o' clinkers as flew out o' the fire last
week and split in two in the middle of the kitchen, an' there ye 'ave it
all writ plain. I sez to Twitt--'Suthin's goin' to 'appen'--an' 'e sez
in 'is fool way--'G'arn, old woman, suthin's allus a-'appenin'
somewheres'--then when Mister Reay looked in all smiles an' sez
'Good-mornin