"I am beginning to understand, Miss Primrose," she said slowly. "Two ... outsiders, have put their heads together to see if they could find a plan for humiliating the stupid, stuck-up, 'so-called old families of Lud!' Oh! don't protest, Miss Primrose. You have never taken any pains to hide your contempt for us. And I have always realized that yours was not a forgiving nature. Nor do I blame you. We have laughed at you unmercifully for years--and you have resented it. All the same I think your revenge has been an unnecessarily violent one; though, I suppose, to 'a true woooman,' nothing is too mean, too spiteful, too base, if it serves the interests of 'him'!" But Miss Primrose had gone as green as grass, and was gibbering with terror: "Marigold! Marigold!" she cried, wringing her hands, "How can you think such things? The dear, devoted Doctor! The best and kindest man in Lud-in-the-Mist! Nobody was angrier with me over what he called my 'criminal carelessness' in allowing that horrible stuff to be smuggled into my loft, I assure you he is quite rabid on the subject of ... er ... fruit. Why, when he was a young man at the time of the great drought he was working day and night trying to stop it, he...." But not for nothing was Dame Marigold descended from generations of judges. Quick as lightning, she turned on her: "The great drought? But that must be forty years ago ... long before Endymion Leer came to Dorimare." "Yes, yes, dear ... of course ... quite so ... I was thinking of what another doctor had told me ... since all this trouble my poor head gets quite muddled," gibbered Miss Primrose. And she was shaking from head to foot. Dame Marigold rose from her chair, and stood looking down on her in silence for a few seconds, under half-closed lids, with a rather cruel little smile. Then she said, "Good-bye, Miss Primrose. You have provided me with most interesting food for thought." And then she left her, sitting there with frightened face against the faded tapestry. That same day, Master Nathaniel received a letter from Luke Hempen that both perplexed and alarmed him. It was as follows: Your Worship,--I'd be glad if you'd take Master Ranulph away from this farm, because the widow's up to mischief, I'm sure of that, and some of the folks about here say as what in years gone by she murdered her husband, and she and somebody else, though I don't know who, seem to have a grudge against Master Ranulph, and, if I might take the liberty, I'll just tell your Worship what I heard.