"Jar," answered his mother. "'Tis an old saying, and true as old, that Satan finds mischief for idle hands. Hard luck you've had of late, and to my cost I know it; but because you've been forced to wait and use patience, and haven't had the usual chances to be busy, that ban't no reason why for you should use your time ill. Guy Fawkes and angels! Isn't the world full of chances to do right? Better bide home and nurse the babbies than go out to do other folks a wrong turn." "When I'm hit, I hit back." "I don't know nothing about the parties, and don't want to know. If a man's hurt you, hit him back from the shoulder so hard as you know how. But this--this thing I hear. Even if 'tis true, and some poor unhappy girl have made a slip--good God Almighty!--you ban't a coward to lift your hand to a woman, be you?" "What d'you know, and what don't you know?" he asked. "I don't know no names, and 'twasn't Val, nor yet Adam Churchward's son who told me that you'd got a plot afoot. Philip Weekes it was who heard it--your own father; and very properly he put the thing afore me. There's a middle-aged spinster down to Little Lydford, that Bill Churchward be rather silly after, and she've screwed a bit of news out of him seemingly. She's one of them nasty 'have you heard?' sort of women, always with a bit of news on her lips--generally untrue. And she told your father that you and another here and there was caballing and hatching up a cruel joke at the expense of a certain man and woman very well known round these parts. I hope 'tis a lie, and I hope you'll tell me 'tis. Then I'll go early to market next Friday and stop at that female's house, and say a thing or two as'll be worse than a mustard poultice to her mean heart." "Better mind your own business. There's a bit of fun in the air--that's all. Sometimes a nod's as good as a wink to a blind hoss. There's a few self-righteous, damned fools about that won't be any the worse for hearing a thing or two they don't know." "I don't like to hear you tell that way, and I wish to God you was busier about your own affairs; then you wouldn't be stirring on other people's. Are you the man to set this wrong right? Ax yourself that afore you go farther." "Yes, I am." "For my sake, Jar, think better of it." "Too late now." "Tell me about it, then." "You'll know soon enough. 'Tis only a joke, when all's said. We are going to let the rough truth loose for once, and tell a psalm-smiting fool a thing or two he don't know seemingly. Or, if he do know and have winked at it, for his own ends, then so much the more shame to him. Anyway, he shan't think Lydford be in the dark--not after next Monday night." "You won't tell me what's doing?"