Mr. Wilson moved up. “Look ’ere,” said he firmly, “we ain’t come to say no such things as you fancy. We means kindly by ye—we wants to ’elp ye all we can. For there _be_ trouble, missus, and ye got to brace up to meet it.” “Yes,” repeated the old woman, “ye’ve got to brace yerself up and keep yerself quiet, my dear.” Lucy drew her shawl very tightly about her, and came down to them, driving them, as it were, before her. “I don’t want no noise ’ere,” she said surlily. “Where be ’e?” “’E be at the doctor’s,” said Wilson. “Yes, ’e be at the master’s,” repeated the woman—“there’ve been a bit of a h’accident....” Lucy pushed past her, and hurried round the corner and up the hill; the two had hard work to keep up with her. “Casey be in it,” she muttered to herself. “Casey done it, I know. I’d like to be even wi’ Casey!” Then turning, she said fiercely, “Where be ’e?” “Who?” asked Wilson. “Casey,” said she. “’E be ... ’e be took up,” answered the man. Her face positively shone. “What, took by the perlice?” she cried, clutching his arm. “Will ’e go to prison?” “Oh, yes, ’e’ll go to prison,” said the man. “The Lord be praised!” she said, stopping dead. The old woman, who had been unable to keep the pace, caught them up. “Look ’ere, ye must look sharp,” she panted, “if ye want to see ’im alive, my dear.” “Alive? Who?” asked Lucy stupidly. The old woman glanced at the man. “I thought ye’d told ’er,” she said. Lucy gazed at them. “If ye mean as Casey ’ave killed my Jerry,” she began slowly, trembling as she spoke. “’E ain’t dead, my dear, ’e ain’t dead yet,” faltered the old housekeeper. Lucy began to run. “Anyways it weren’t the blow Casey ’it ’im as done for ’im, Mrs. Wood,” panted Wilson, keeping up with her, “Nobody don’t love Casey, but ’tweren’t all ’is fault. There _were_ a bit of a brawl—over a gal. Jerry was drunk, ’e ’it out. Then the perlice come. Somebody did say Casey split on Jerry, but if ’e did ’e be paid for it. For t’other boys ’elped Jerry off—’e was allers a favourite with ’em—and Casey, seein’ ’isself left-like, ’it out at the perlice. Nobody knows the rights o’t, but Casey be took up. So’d Jerry ha’ been if ’e ’adn’t come by that fall on the bridge. ’E was blind-drunk, and ’e missed ’is foot in the mist.” “Casey done it,” was all Lucy said. “’Oo’s fault was it as ’e were drunk?” And she ran on. Lights appeared faintly before her through the murky mist; they shone from the doctor’s house at the corner of the churchyard. The moon, piercing the clouds for a moment, threw a wan light on the square tower of the old church, on the summit of its massive buttresses, on the lopped pine-tree beyond; but it was too feeble to illumine the dank vapours that floated through the ghostly arches of the ruined transepts and rested, almost opaquely, on the tops of the time-worn tombstones in the graveyard.