“Ah-h-h, ’tis true, sir, ’tis true,” put in Mrs. Blanchard, shaking her head. “There do seem to ha’ comed quite a gloom over the place since the sad noos come. E-es, I may say so, quite a gloom. And us as was all rej’ycin’ such a few days ago about Ladysmith, you know, as weren’t relieved at all. Dear, yes, how well I do mind it. I did say then, didn’t I, Mrs. Stuckhey? as bell sounded just same as if ’twere a-tollin’. Them was my very words, and I did go all shivery down my back and feeled quite nervish. ’Twas a token, I do r’aly believe. There was bell a-tollin’ o’ Wednesday as ’twere Monday poor Joe was killed.” “Ah, dear, ’tis that what comes most cruel hard of all,” groaned the poor mother. “There was I laughin’ and talkin’ wi’ the rest, and my poor Joe stiff an’ cold.” “E-es, indeed, Mrs. Stuckhey,” returned the farmer, winking away a tear from his own kindly eyes, “it do seem hard, I d’ ’low; the ways o’ Providence be oncomprehensible, as the Bible do say. I d’ ’low, this here do seem very providential.” “I don’t think I’d ha’ minded so much if he’d a-been struck down after they’d won the victory, d’ye see,” went on Susan. “Nay, I could ha’ bore it better—I could have felt as his life weren’t took for nothin’; but to think as he were cut off when they’d only just started as he did tell I in his last letter. That they took en and shot en and ’tweren’t no use.” “Nay, now, don’t ’ee say that, Mrs. Stuckhey, don’t ’ee go for to say that.” And Farmer Joyce brought down his fist emphatically on the low wall near which he was standing. “He gave his life for summat, you may depend. ’Twas in doin’ good work as he fell; and that there work ull go on, and ull end well, and your son ull ha’ helped to make it end well. Now, see here, this be the way to look at it. A wall’s a wall, bain’t it?” And he brought down his fist upon the coping again. Both women, staring blankly at him, acceded to this incontrovertible statement. “Well, and an army’s an army—ye’ll admit that.” They admitted it. “Well, and what be a wall made on? Stones or bricks. This here wall be made o’ stones. And what be an army made on? Men. Do ye take me? There wouldn’t be no wall if there weren’t no stones, and there wouldn’t be no army if there weren’t no men. And more”—raising his voice as he warmed to his subject—“there wouldn’t be no wall if some o’ them stones wasn’t laid underground for the foundations; and there wouldn’t be no army if there wasn’t no fightin’, an’ some o’ the men wasn’t killed. An’ ’tis my belief, Mrs. Stuckhey, as your Joe, what has got killed an’ been put underground, is one o’ the foundations o’ the British army. An’ when that there army marches into Ladysmith, as it be sure to do, your Joe ull ha’ done as much as any man to get it there.” Poor Susan smiled and wiped her eyes, and held up her head with a sort of pitiful pride.