‘Nay, nay, he’ll leave it all in a lump to she. He thought the world of the missus. He’ll be sure to ha’ left it to she—wi’out she marries again. Then—well, then, very like Mr. Sharpe will come in. Poor Mr. Fiander, ’t is a sad thing to ha’ never chick nor child to leave your money to.’ ‘Ah, sure, ’t is a pity they did n’t have no children. I reckon Mr. Fiander looked to have ’em, seein’ he’d picked out such a fine shapely maid. He were a fine man too, though he were gettin’ into years, to be sure, when he wed her. Not but what a body ’ud ha’ expected the old gentleman to last a good bit longer. Sixty-two they d’ say he were.’ ‘Well, and that’s no age to speak on! Lord, I were that upset when I heerd he were took I’m not the better of it yet.’ ‘Ay, ’t is a terrible visitation! All as has hearts must feel it.’ ‘I do assure ye, Mrs. Belbin, I’ve scarce closed my eyes since, and when I do drop off towards mornin’ I do dream—’t is fearful what I do dream! This very night, I tell ye, I thought the End had come, and we was all a-bein’ judged yon in church. The Lord A’mighty Hisself was a-sittin’ up in gallery a-judging of we—’ ‘Bless me,’ interrupted Mrs. Belbin, ‘and what were A’mighty God like to look on, Mrs. Paddock?’ ‘Oh, He were beautiful—wi’ broad large features and a very piercin’ eye—but He had a beautiful smile. I thought, if ye can understand, that some was a-goin’ up to the right and some to the left. Yes, we was all bein’ judged, taking our turns. Squire fust, and then his lady, and then all the young ladies and gentlemen a-goin’ up one after t’ other and a-bein’ judged—’ ‘Well, well!’ commented Mrs. Belbin, throwing up her eyes and hands. ‘All so natural like, wa’ n’t it?’ She had evidently been much impressed by the strict order of precedence observed by the actors in this visionary drama. ‘Well, then I seed farmers a-goin’ up—’ ‘Did ye see poor Farmer Fiander?’ inquired the other eagerly. ‘Nay, nay. He were n’t there, strange to say. ’T ’ud ha’ been natural to see him—him bein’ dead, ye know—but he were n’t there. But I see master a-bein’ judged.’ ‘Did ye, now? and where did he go? He’s a good man—he ’d be like to go up’ards. Were Hamworthy there—the butcher, I mean? I wonder what the A’mighty ’ud say to the short weights that he do give us poor folk!’ ‘Nay, I did n’t see him, fur it were a-comin’ nigh my turn, and I were that a-feared I could n’t think o’ nothin’ else. And when I did get up to walk up under gallery I thought my legs did give way and down I plumped—and that did awaken me up.’