_Rip._ Ay. Well, I don’t know what he _was_, but I know what he _is_; that’s enough for me. The scowlingest, black-browedest, three-corneredest chap _I_ ever see, ’cept as regards children, and he’s as fond o’ children as a young girl, and the littler they are the more he likes ’em, and they likes him. Now, I’m as tender-hearted as a kitten, but I _hates_ children, and they can’t abide me. That’s odd, ain’t it? _Mar._ Ay. _Rip._ Yes, that’s Dan’l Druce’s story as far as we knows it down in these parts. Maybe you know more? _Mar._ Maybe I do. _Rip._ Now, I dare swear there was a woman at the bottom of it all. I never got _my_ chain cable kinked but a woman had a hand in it. _Mar._ (_coming forward_). Hark ye, my lad, you’re hard on women. From the look of you, I’ve a notion no woman ever had much to do with any trouble of yours, saving your mother when she bore you. No, no, your tongue’s done all the mischief that ever come to _you_. You let women alone; I’m sure they never interfere with _you_. _Enter DAN’L DRUCE. He has a bundle of nets over his shoulder, and he is half tipsy. His appearance is that of a man of fifty, but haggard with want. His hair is long and matted, and he has a beard of some days’ growth on his chin._ _Dan._ Hullo! Who’s that? Joe Ripley, eh? Why, Joe Ripley, what dost thou do skulking in other men’s huts when they’re away? Nothing to lay hands on _here_, Joe Ripley. And thou’st brought a friend, eh? Didst thee think there was too much plunder for a man to carry that thou’st brought an ass to help thee? There’s nowt for thee here. Take thine ugly face into the storm; maybe thou’lt get it battered straight. Come, out wi’ ’ee! _Rip._ Hold thy peace, man. I want nowt of thine. I’ve brought thee money for thy two nets. _Dan._ Where is it? _Rip._ And here’s a man as says he’s thy brother--and I wish him joy o’ his brotherhood! I found him in the village asking for thee, so I brought him to thee. (_MARPLE holds out his hand._) _Dan._ (_not heeding him_). Gi’ me the money. _Mar._ Dost thou not know me, Jonas Marple? _Dan._ Dead. Dead three years ago. _Mar._ Ay, thou gavest thyself out as dead, that _he_ might make an honest woman of her. _Dan._ Thou liest, she _was_ an honest woman, for all she left me. ’Twas him that stole her, God bless her! Jonas Marple died the day she left him. I’m Dan’l Druce. _Rip._ I knew there was a woman in it. _Mar._ And if Jonas _be_ dead, hast thou no word of welcome to Jonas’s brother? _Dan._ None! (_To RIPLEY._) Gi’ me the money. _Rip._ There! Ay, count it; we’re all thieves and liars. (_To MARPLE._) That’s his craze. Is it right? _Dan._ I dunno, I can’t count to-night. Let it be, I’ll count it to-morrow. (_To MARPLE._) How didst thou find me?