“Dear, dear,” said Fripp, “’tis terrible to hear how onraisonable the pore maid d’ talk! Take her home, do, Mrs. Adlam, an’ make her lay down.” “Come along then, Susan,” cried Mrs. Adlam with an air of chastened dignity; “come along, else you’ll be havin’ the westeria again.” “Nay, now, Mother, ’tis _heasteria_ ye mean. Doctor said plain as the name of it was heasteria.” “Lard, child, heast or west, ’tis all one. You come home wi’ me, do ’ee now, else you’ll be laid up.” She drew one of the pretty white hands through her own bony arm and led her daughter gently away, supporting her with increasing solicitude, as the girl, conscious of attracting universal attention, began to limp and to stagger in the most interesting manner. “Pore thing!” murmured Fripp commiseratingly. “She d’ seem to be falterin’. I d’ ’low ’tis a terrible visitation for Mrs. Adlam, ’tis surely. Well, Mother, let us give thanks where thanks be due. Lizzie, here, is a good set off to t’other one.” “She’d better be,” retorted Mrs. Fripp, speaking loudly and decisively for Lizzie’s benefit. “I’d have no patience wi’ such goin’s on. I’d take a bit o’ broom-end to her instead o’ the doctor if I were Mrs. Adlam.” “Well said!” chimed in a red-faced matron from the other side of the hedge. “It never does no good to spile childer. Says I to mine soon’s ever they grow up: ‘Now,’ I says, ‘I’ve gi’ed ye a good educassion, and now yer claaws must keep yer jaaws,’ I says.” Though the education which the good lady in question had bestowed upon her progeny was known to be of a somewhat questionable order, and though the said progeny were by no means considered creditable to the community at large, the theory was so sound in itself that the Fripps agreed heartily; and the sentiment was endorsed by the village policeman, who for the last few minutes had been listening unobserved to the discussion. “Ah,” he said, “that’s what I call straightfor’ard. ‘Yer claaws must keep yer jaaws,’ says you. If Susan Adlam had nothing to put into her mouth but what her ’ands got for her she’d starve, pore young craiture. But tis a very foolish business about Tom Locke. The young man’s a fine young man, doin’ well, an’ like to do better—an eye more nor less doesn’t alter his being a wonderful good match for the girl. But if she’s so set on his havin’ a pair, why doesn’t he get a mock un put in?” “A mock eye!” exclaimed Mrs. Fripp in amazement. “My stars! I never heard tell o’ such a thing. You be jokin’ surely, policeman.” “Nay, not I indeed. I knowed a man livin’ out Tipton way as lost his eye on account o’ a bit o’ blasted rock goin’ into it; an’ he went to Bristol an’ come back wi’ a beautiful new un—ye’d scarce know it from his own, only it were a deal handsomer.” “D— my eyes!” murmured Mr. Fripp, not with any intentional profanity, but because the expletive seemed peculiarly adapted to the circumstances.