wellnigh half kill a man!'
Then he was silent for a while, sitting back in his chair, not moving
a limb, with his eyes fastened on Mrs Pipkin's ceiling. Mrs Hurtle had
some work in her hand, and sat watching him. The man was to her an
extraordinary being,--so constant, so slow, so unexpressive, so unlike
her own countrymen,--willing to endure so much, and at the same time so
warm in his affections! 'Sir Felix Carbury!' he said. 'I'll Sir Felix
him some of these days. If it was only dinner, wouldn't she be back
afore this, ma'am?'

'I suppose they've gone to some place of amusement,' said Mrs Hurtle.

'Like enough,' said John Crumb in a low voice.

'She's that mad after dancing as never was,' said Mrs Pipkin.

'And where is it as 'em dances?' asked Crumb, getting up from his
chair, and stretching himself. It was evident to both the ladies that
he was beginning to think that he would follow Ruby to the music hall.
Neither of them answered him, however, and then he sat down again.
'Does 'em dance all night at them places, Mrs Pipkin?'

'They do pretty nearly all that they oughtn't to do,' said Mrs Pipkin.
John Crumb raised one of his fists, brought it down heavily on the
palm of his other hand, and then sat silent for awhile.

'I never knowed as she was fond o' dancing,' he said. 'I'd a had
dancing for her down at Bungay,--just as ready as anything. D'ye
think, ma'am, it's the dancing she's after, or the baro-nite?' This
was another appeal to Mrs Hurtle.

'I suppose they go together,' said the lady.

Then there was another long pause, at the end of which poor John Crumb
burst out with some violence. 'Domn him! Domn him! What 'ad I ever dun
to him? Nothing! Did I ever interfere wi' him? Never! But I wull. I
wull. I wouldn't wonder but I'll swing for this at Bury!'

'Oh, Mr Crumb, don't talk like that,' said Mrs Pipkin.

'Mr Crumb is a little disturbed, but he'll get over it presently,'
said Mrs Hurtle.

'She's a nasty slut to go and treat a young man as she's treating
you,' said Mrs Pipkin.

'No, ma'am;--she ain't nasty,' said the lover. 'But she's crou'll,--
horrid crou'll. It's no more use my going down about meal and pollard,
nor business, and she up here with that baro-nite,--no, no more nor
nothin'! When I handles it I don't know whether its middlings nor
nothin' else. If I was to twist his neck, ma'am, would you take it on
yourself to say as I was wrong?'

'I'd sooner hear that you had taken the girl