"No doot, no doot, Diggory!" replied the farmer, "but seeing 'em's _all_--thoo knaws!" The farmer meant this for an arch sally, but his companions in the boat were not in the vein to relish his humour. "What do _you_ think aboot sich solemn things, Dame Thrumpkinson?" asked the old ferryman, turning to the corner of the boat where Deborah seemed buried in reflection;--"you sit and say not a word, all this time. Give us your thowts, dame, for ye've more sense than all of us, put together!" "I don't give heed to every fool's tale about such things," replied Dame Deborah, in her usual grave tone; "but I've serious reason for believing that the dead often know what the living are doing." "Why, did ye ivver see owt spirit'al, Dame Thrumpkinson?" instantly asked half-a-dozen voices, while twice as many eyes glared upon the aged Deborah with a gaze as wonder-stricken as that of a nest of owls suddenly awakened by daylight. "Nay, neighbours, nay!" replied the dame, drooping her head, and speaking in a tone of melancholy tenderness;--"do not ask me further. I think we ought to keep sacred the secrets of the dead that have been near and precious to us!" The manner of Dame Deborah's reply was so affecting, and its intimate meaning, though only guessed by her rude auditors, seemed to command so deep a respect from their simple feelings, that the subject was immediately dropped; and the whole party remained silent until the boat had touched the western bank of the river. Some of the company now took a direction for Owston and Butterwick, and such parts of the country as lay on the banks of the Trent; while the remnant, who were bound for the more central parts of the isle, being more strongly mounted than Joe and his aged mistress, and many of them having a greater distance to reach ere night-fall, sped on before, after bidding their deeply-respected acquaintance, Dame Deborah, a hearty and kindly farewell. The journey home was nearly ended before the dame broke silence, her mind seeming deeply intent on thoughts which the conversation in the boat had awakened within her; and when she addressed her foster-son, it was but briefly, though kindly. "I hope the ride will do thee no harm, bairn," she said, in a tone of the gentlest affection; "and how did ta spend the half-crown?" "I bought a book with it, dame," Joe answered. "A book!" said she, pleasantly:--"well, well, it's like thee: but, may be, thou could not ha' spent it better. And what sort of a book is it, bairn?" "Quite on a new subject," Joe replied, scarcely knowing how to describe the book to the dame's plain understanding.