"A-h-h-h, them bwoys o' Chaffey's has been poachin' again I d' 'low," interrupted Mrs. Haskell eagerly. "Never did see sich chaps as they be. A body 'ud think they'd know better nor to act so unrespectable-like. Why, as my wold man do say sometimes, 'ye mid as well put your hand in Squire's pocket as go a-layin' snares for his hares an' rabbits--'tis thievin' whichever way ye do look at it,' he do say." "Well, I don't agree wi' he," responded Betty with some heat. She had sons of her own who were occasionally given to strolling abroad on moonlight nights, and usually returned with bulging pockets. "I don't agree at all. The Lard made they little wild things for the poor so well as for the rich--same as the water what runs through Squire's park an' down along by the back o' my place. Who's to tell who they belongs to. A hare 'ull lep up on one side o' the hedge, an' then it'll be Squire's, an' it'll run across t'other side, an' then it's Maister's, an' then it'll come an' squat down in my cabbage garden--then I d' 'low 'tis mine if I can catch it." Mrs. Haskell, who was too anxious to gossip to dally by the way in a disquisition on the Game Laws, assented to her friend's argument with somewhat disappointing promptness, and returned to the original subject of discussion. "I be real curious to hear that there bit o' noos." "You'll be surprised I d' 'low," said Mrs. Tuffin. "Ye mind Abel Guppy what went off to the war out there abroad wi' the Yeomanry? Well, they d' say he be killed." "Dear, now, ye don't tell I so," said the other in a dispassionate, and if truth be told, somewhat disappointed tone. A death, though always exciting, was not after all so very uncommon, and when a man "'listed for a soldier," most of the older village folk looked upon his destruction as a foregone conclusion. "Killed, poor young chap! His aunt Susan 'ull be terrible opset." "I d' 'low she will be opset," said Betty meaningly, "and it bain't only along of him bein' killed, poor feller, but you'd never think, Mrs. Haskell, how things have a-turned out. Ye mind that maid up to Bartlett's what he was a-courtin'?" "'E-es, to be sure I do. A great big bouncin' wench as ever I did see, wi' her red head an' all." "Well, it seems afore poor Abel went out he wrote a paper an' give it to this 'ere maid, a-leavin' her everything as the poor chap had in the world." "Mercy on me! But she be a-walkin' out wi' somebody else they tell me; she've a-took up wi' the noo love afore she did leave off wi' the wold."