“Don’t ye be too sure, Swithin, ’at there’s naught in it,” one of the older men interposed quickly. “My missus has heard t’ tale, and there’s more nor one has seen ’em together. It’s all round t’ village, anyway; if you start a scandal it doesn’t go on crutches, you know—t’ women see to that.” “There’s happen nowt in it,” another added. “Jack’s a bit touchy, you see. He’s been spreading t’ net his-self for Polly, and he’s like to be jealous.” The younger men laughed and Swithin experienced a sense of relief. “I’ll net him!” he muttered; “spreading his rotten lies through all t’ village.” “All t’ same,” said old Ambrose; “when a wed man smirks on a young lass he owt to be watched. It’s a trew word ’at there’s nivver a foul face but there’s a foul fancy to match it; and a foul face that lad has, wi’ mischief written deep. And when a man’s all for his-sen, even though it’s i’ t’ way o’ Natur’, a lass’s mother counts for nowt.” Swithin shifted uneasily on his seat; and the landlord, who had heard most of the triologue, but had been too busy to take part, now tried to divert the conversation into another channel. “I feel sorry for yon two,” he said, indicating the Drakes’ dwelling with a jerk of his head. “What they’ve had to put up with sin’ they started ’ud try the patience o’ Job, for there’s been nasty underhanded tricks played on ’em ’at ’ud ha’ driven some men out o’ t’ village. If you take pleasure i’ smartness there’s no question but what Inman’s smart, and keeps himself inside o’ t’ law into t’ bargain.” “Aye, aye, Albert; but you’re nobbut a young man and hasn’t got your second sight yet,” said Ambrose knowingly. “A man ’at laiks wi’ a rope round his neck may last for a while but he’ll be throttled at t’ finish. There’s a sayin’ about a green bay-tree ’at I can’t call to mind—whether it’s i’ t’ Bible or one o’ my verses I couldn’t just say. I’ve lost a deal wi’ being a poor scholar, and it grieves me to think ’at if I’d nobbut—but I’ve lost t’ track o’ what I was sayin’, for owd age sets my head a-hummin’ like a top.” “It caps me,” said Albert when the weak voice quavered to a standstill, “’at Maniwel takes it all so pleasant-like; and as for Jagger, I can’t reckon him up noway. I believe if they were to rive his shop down he’d nayther swear nor laugh; but just set to work and build it up again.” “He cares nowt about owt sin’ Inman wed Nancy,” commented Swithin. “That explains Jagger, and there’s no more to be said.” “Nay, there’s more nor that, Swithin,” said Ambrose. “You can judge t’ foal better when you know it’s sire, and Maniwel explains Jagger. T’ lad’s been a bit slow at findin’ his feet, but there’s nowt like a storm for drivin’ a man to t’ rock, and Jagger frames to follow after his fayther.” “He mud do worse,” said some man whom Ambrose could not see. “And that’s a trew word,” said Swithin, still gloomily, for his thoughts were divided.