Punch-Bowl, as long as he was there, and then handed his patient
over to the local practitioner.

Mrs. Verstage was little better informed than the rest of the
inhabitants of Thursley, for her son had not told her anything
about the accident to Jonas, more than was absolutely necessary;
and to all her inquiries returned a laughing answer that as he had
not shot the Broom-Squire he could not inform her how the thing
was done.

She was too much engaged so long as the visitors were in the
house, to be able to leave it; and Mehetabel did not come near her.

As soon, however, as she was more free, she started in her little
trap for the Punch-Bowl, and arrived at a time when Jonas was not
at home.

This exactly suited her. She had Mehetabel to herself, and could
ask her any questions she liked without restraint.

"My dear Matabel," she said, "I've had a trying time of it, with
the house full, and only Polly to look to for everything. Will you
believe me--on Sunday I said I would give the gentlemen a little
plum-pudding. I mixed it myself, and told Polly to boil it, whilst
I went to church. Of course, I supposed she would do it properly,
but with those kind of people one must take nothing for granted."

"Did she spoil the pudding, mother?"

"Oh, no--the pudding was all right."

"Then what harm was done?"

"She spoiled my best nightcap."

"How so?"

"Boiled the puddin' in it, because she couldn't find a bag. I'll
never get it proper white again, nor the frills starched and made
up. And there is the canary bird, too."

"What of that, mother?"

"My dear, I told Polly to clean out the cage."

"And did she not do it?"

"Oh, yes--only too well. She dipped it in a pan of hot water and
soda--and the bird in it."

"What--the canary--is it dead?"

"Of course it is, and bleached white too. That girl makes the water
so thick wi' soda you could stand a spoon up in it. She used five
pounds in two days."

"Oh, the poor canary!" Mehetabel was greatly troubled for her pet.

"I don't quite understand the ways o' Providence," said Mrs.
Verstage. "I don't suppose I shall till the veil be lifted. I
understand right enough why oysters ain't given eyes--lest they
should see those who are opening their mouths to eat 'em. And if
geese were given wings like swallows, they wouldn't bide with us
over Michaelmas. But why Providence should ha' denied domestic
servants the gift of intelligence wherewith we, their masters and
mis