"There be worse thengs about," said a voice behind. It was the clerk, who, having put the rector's surplice ready, had slipped out for a minute into the churchyard to communicate a piece of news. He was a little shrivelled old fellow. "Nash was allus a gay man," said Ruck. "So was his father afore un," added Hedges. "It runs in the family." "Summut in the blood, summut in the blood," said Nash, not to appear to value the hereditary propensity too highly. "Did ee never notice that shart men be a'most sure to get on with th' wimmen? I got summut to tell ee." "What be it?" from both listeners at once. If the Athenians were eager for something new, those that dwell in the fields are ten times more so. "You knows Mr Valentine Browne as built the new stables?" "Sartainly." "He have took my cottage for the trout-fishing." "Aw! You calls un Hollyocks, doan't ee?" said Ruck. "A' bean't very far from Greene Ferne, be a'?" asked Hedges. "Wimmen," said the clerk meaningly. "'Pend upon it, it be the wimmen!" "Lor, here um comes!" said Ruck. Two young men walked quickly round the tower, coming from the other side, down the gravel path past the group, and opening the wicket-gate went out into the field. Nash bowed and scraped, Ruck lifted his beaver, but neither seemed to observe these attentions. "It be the wimmen, and no mistake," said Ruck. "Thaay be gone to meet um. The Ferne folk be moast sure to come up thuck path this sunny day, 'stead of driving." "Marnin', shepherd," said the clerk to a labouring man who had just entered the churchyard. "I was afeared you'd be late. 'Spose you come from Upper Furlong. How's your voice?" "Aw, featish [fairish]. I zucked a thrush's egg to clear un." "Arl right, Jabez; mind as you doan't zeng too fast. It be your fault, shepherd, it be your fault." For Jabez was the leader of the choir. "Nash!" cried a stern voice, and the clerk jumped and tore his hat off at the sound. "Catch those boys!" It was Squire Thorpe, whose magisterial eye had at once detected the youthful gamblers behind the buttress. Nash rushed towards them; but they had scented the Squire's arrival, and dodged him round the big tombstones. Thorpe turned to the two farmers, who lifted their hats. "Grass coming on nicely, Hedges," said he. "Ought to be a good hay year." The Squire was as fond of gossip as any man in the parish; but he was rather late that morning; for he had hardly taken his stand by the wall when the "dill-dill" of the bell came to a sudden stop. The two gentlemen who had gone out into the field returned at a run. "Ah, here you are!" said the Squire; and the three walked rapidly to the chancel door. Ruck and Hedges, however, showed no signs of moving. A low hum arose from the hand-organ within; still they leant on the wall, deferring action to the last moment.