'Well, fool, can't you speak?' she said. 'I dare say now as he wants you to move on?' queried Vessons. 'Ah.' 'Because of this other young 'ooman he's brought?' 'Ah, what's the good o' mouthing it? I bin faithful to 'im; I hanna gone with others. All the chillun's his'n. And never come near me, he didna, when my time come. And now it's "go!"' She broke out crying again. 'What I come for was to show you a way to make her go. If I tell you, you mun swear never to come and live at Undern.' ''Struth I will!' 'Well, then, just you come and see 'er some time when the master's away. And bring the chillun.' 'Thank you kindly.' 'Not till I say the word, though! I wunna risk it till he's off for the day. If he found me out, it'd be notice. Eh, missus, he's like a lad with his first white mouse! And the parson! Laws, they'm two thrussels wi' one worm, and no mistake.' 'And yet she's only a bit of a thing, you tell me?' 'Ah! But she'm all on wires, to and agen like a canbottle.' 'Why canna she bide with the minister?' 'Lord only knows! It's for 'er good, and for the maister's and yours, not to speak of mine. It's werrit, werrit, all the while, missus, and the fingers in the tea-caddy the day long! It's Andrew this and Andrew that, and a terrible strong smell of flowers--enough for a burying.' * * * * * Vessons waited eagerly for his opportunity; but Reddin was afraid to leave Hazel alone, in case she might see Sally; so September came and drew out its shining span of days, and still Vessons and Sally were waiting. Chapter 32 Morning by morning Hazel watched the fuchsia bushes, set with small red flowers, purple-cupped, with crimson stamens, sway in beautiful abandon. The great black bees pulled at them like a calf at its mother. Their weight dragged the slender drooping branches almost to the earth. So the rich pageantry of beauty, the honeyed silent lives went on, and would go on, it seemed for ever. And then one morning all was over; one of Undern's hard early frosts took then all--the waxen red-pointed buds, the waxen purple cups, the red-veined leaves. The bees were away, and Hazel, seeking them, found a few half alive in sheltered crevices, and many frozen stiff. She put those that were still alive in a little box near the parlour fire. Soon a low delighted humming began as they one by one recovered and set off to explore the ceiling. Into this contented buzzing came Reddin, who had just been again to Sally's, and was much put out by her refusal to go away before November. 'What the h--- is all this humming?' he asked. 'It's bees. I've fetched 'em in to see good times a bit afore they die.' 'What a child's trick!' he said, fending off an inquiring bee. 'Why, they'll stay here all winter! We shall get stung.' Then he saw the hospital full of bees by the fire. 'More?' he said. 'Good Lord!' He threw the box into the fire. Hazel was silent with horror. At last she gasped: 'I was mothering 'em!'