Josey leaned on his stick thoughtfully for a minute, and then resumed his slow shuffling way. Any one of the men or women near him would have willingly given him a hand to assist his steps, but they all knew that he would be highly incensed if they dared to show that they considered him in any way feeble or in need of support. So they contented themselves with accompanying him at his own snail's pace, and at such a distance as to be within hearing of any remarks he might let fall, without intruding too closely on the special area in which he chose to stump along homewards. "The Five Sisters comin' down, and the old Squire's daughter comin' 'ome!" he muttered; "They two things is like ile and water,--nothin' 'ull make 'em mix. The Squire's daughter--ay--ay! It seems but only yeste'day the Squire died! And she was a fine mare that threw him, too,--Firefly was her name. Ay--ay! It seems but yeste'day--but yeste'day!" "D'ye mind the Squire's daughter, Josey?" asked one of the village women sauntering a little nearer to him. "Mind her?" And Josey Letherbarrow halted abruptly. "Do I mind my own childer? It seems but yeste'day, I tell ye, that the Squire died, but mebbe it's a matter of six-an'-twenty 'ear agone since 'e came to me where I was a-workin' in 'is fields, and he pinted out to me the nurse wot was walkin' up and down near the edge of the pasture carryin' his baby all in long clothes. 'See that, Josey!' he sez, an' 'is eyes were all wild-like an' 'is lips was a' tremblin'; 'That little white thing is all I've got left of the wife I was bringin' 'ome to be the sunshine of the old Manor. I felt like killin' that child, Josey, when it was born, because its comin' into this wurrld killed its mother. That was an unnat'ral thing, Josey,' sez he--'There was no God in it, only a devil!' and 'is lips trembled more'n ever--'no woman ought to die in givin' birth to a child--it's jes' wicked an' cruel! I would say that to God Himself, if I knew Him!' An' he clenched 'is fist 'ard, an' then 'e went on-- 'But though I wanted to kill the little creature, I couldn't do it, Josey, I couldn't! It's eyes were like those of my Dearest. So I let it live; an' I'll do my best by it, Josey,'--yes, them's the words 'e said--'I'll do my best by it!'" Here Josey broke off in his narrative, and resumed his crawling pace. "You ain't finished, 'ave ye, Josey?" said Roger Buggins propitiatingly, drawing closer to the old man. "It's powerful interestin', all this 'ere!" Josey halted again.