"Well it may be going to rain; yer know a deal better than I do, and I won't gainsay yer? we shall know fast enough afore night closes in. And now Mrs. Grey will yer give me the charm?" "You don't need any charm." "Can't be done without," said he decidedly. "I've tried everything else I know of, and it ain't no use," said he despairingly. "Well," said Goody Grey, after a moment's consideration, "do you see this box?" and she took a small box out of her pocket and filled it with some of the fine gravel from his garden, whilst Matthew looked eagerly on as if his life depended on it. "When next you are on your road to the Brampton Arms, and are close to the yew tree which grows within a stone's throw of the door, _turn back_, and when you reach home again take the box out of your pocket and throw away one of the stones, and don't stir forth again, save to answer the 'pike, for the rest of the evening." "And then?" questioned Matthew. "Then there's nothing more to be done, except to sit quiet and silent and watch your wife's face." "Where I shall see ten thousand furies, if I don't answer her." "You are a man, what need you care? Do as I bid you every time you are tempted to go to the Public-house; never miss once until the box is empty. Then bring it back to me." "And suppose I miss. What then?" "How do you mean?" "Why; what if when I finds myself so near the door of the Public--you see, ma'am, it's a great temptation--I turns in and gets a drop afore I comes home?" "Then you must add another stone instead of taking one away, and don't attempt to deceive me, or the charm will work harm instead of good." Deceive her; no. Matthew had far too much faith in the charm to do that; there was no occasion for her fears. "And is this the only charm you know of?" he asked. "The only one. When the box is empty the cure is certain; but remember the conditions, a silent tongue and not a drop of drink; the breaking of either one of these at the time when the charm is working, and a stone must be added." "The box'll never be empty in this world," said he, with a deep sigh; "but I'll try. My thanks to yer all the same, ma'am." "You can thank me when you bring back the box. How is Mrs. Marks?" "Pretty tidy, thank yer," but he looked crestfallen, notwithstanding his assertion. "I never know'd her ill; she's like a horse, always ready for any amount of work, nothing knocks her up." "Sometimes the trees we think the strongest, wither the soonest," said Goody Grey passing on, while Matthew leant against the gate and counted the stones in the box. "There's eight of them," said he. "I wish it had been an uneven number, it's more lucky. Eight times! More than a week. It'll never be empty--never!" then he looked up and watched Goody Grey almost out of sight, and as he did so her last words came across him again.