rter to Mus' Plum
I was--gettin' ten shillin's week. Mine was a Marsh woman.'

'Won'erful odd-gates place--Romney Marsh,' said Tom Shoesmith. 'I've heard
say the world's divided like into Europe, Ashy, Afriky, Ameriky, Australy,
an' Romney Marsh.'

'The Marsh folk think so,' said Hobden. 'I had a hem o' trouble to get my
woman to leave it.'

'Where did she come out of? I've forgot, Ralph.'

'Dymchurch under the Wall,' Hobden answered, a potato in his hand.

'Then she'd be a Pett--or a Whitgift, would she?'

'Whitgift.' Hobden broke open the potato and ate it with the curious
neatness of men who make most of their meals in the blowy open. 'She
growed to be quite reasonable-like after livin' in the Weald awhile, but
our first twenty year or two she was odd-fashioned, no bounds. And she was
a won'erful hand with bees.' He cut away a little piece of potato and
threw it out to the door.

'Ah! I've heard say the Whitgifts could see further through a millstone
than most,' said Shoesmith. 'Did she, now?'

'She was honest-innocent, of any nigromancin',' said Hobden. 'Only she'd
read signs and sinnifications out o' birds flyin', stars fallin', bees
hivin', and such. An' she'd lie awake--listenin' for calls, she said.'

'That don't prove naught,' said Tom. 'All Marsh folk has been smugglers
since time everlastin'. 'Twould be in her blood to listen out o' nights.'

'Nature-ally,' old Hobden replied, smiling. 'I mind when there was
smugglin' a sight nearer us than the Marsh be. But that wasn't my woman's
trouble. 'Twas a passel o' no-sense talk,' he dropped his voice, 'about
Pharisees.'

'Yes. I've heard Marsh men beleft in 'em.' Tom looked straight at the
wide-eyed children beside Bess.

'Pharisees,' cried Una. 'Fairies? Oh, I see!'

'People o' the Hills,' said the Bee Boy, throwing half of his potato
towards the door.

'There you be!' said Hobden, pointing at him. 'My boy, he has her eyes and
her out-gate senses. That's what _she_ called 'em!'

'And what did you think of it all?'

'Um--um,' Hobden rumbled. 'A man that uses fields an' shaws after dark as
much as I've done, he don't go out of his road excep' for keepers.'

'But settin' that aside?' said Tom, coaxingly. 'I saw ye throw the Good
Piece out-at doors just now. Do ye believe or--_do_ ye?'

'There was a great black eye to that tater,' said Hobden, indignantly.

'My liddle eye didn't see un, then. It looked as if you meant it for--for
Any One that mig