“But how could we, Mr. Degge? I tell you God’s truth—we never could. We have been actchull prisoners to Scammel; ween lived under daily threats of murder, and many a night and many a day, in lonely places ween expected that he’d just kill and bury us. It warn’t in our power to escape from that almighty Sattan. And you’ll not go for to try to hang us for what we could no more help than we could fly or swim. We heard of the three hundred pound. Scammel said there were three hundred pound set on his head, and he reckoned we should try to get it; and so he must kill us off to make all safe. Oh, to think of what ween gone through, and to hang us for it! No, your worships, don’t you think we’d ha’ got the three hundred pound, if we could? It stands to reason. And look at me here. I say it as knows it, that I am as honest a woman as walks in shoe-leather. Nine childer I have nursed and reared, sons and daughters, and not one of them has ever got hanged.” A smile crossed the features of all present. “Well, gentlemen, you may think it an easy matter to bring up nine childer, and none of them to get hanged. You’ve yer nurses, and school-masters, and school-misseses to teach ’em, and they’n plenty of pocket-money, and horses to ride, and coaches to sit in, and everything they wanten; but it’s different wi’ poor folks in these wicked times. There’s little or no schooling, and the childer gets in th’ streets, and hears and sees what they shouldna; and, oh! I’ve seen the troubles on troubles of some of my neighbours, and I’ve seen as many as three young strong men strung up in Castleborough of a row, as I remembered as childer as innocent as th’ lambs i’ th’ meadows. Well, gentlemen, you may smile; but when I’ve seen such sights, I’ve blessed God, that not one of mine has ever got hanged.” “I see truth in what you say, Jenny Shalcross,” said Mr. Degge. “We, who are better off, don’t, I feel, allow weight enough to such facts. Where are your children now?” “The wenches are aw married, and struggling on, just scratting their way through th’ world, some with poor, drunken, good-for-nothing husbands; and our sons are some here, some there, married and decent working-men, wi’ families like, and two on ’em are sogers, and have bled for their king and country.” “Were they in the great war?” “Oh, yes, your worship, they were to a sartainty. They both had wounds on the field of honour, as it is called; but where that great field is, I dunna know. It is somewhere in France, I reckon, where Bony was; for one has awlis heerd on it, when he was talked of.” “Well, Jenny,” said Mr. Simon Degge. “I am sorry to say that we shall be obliged to send you to the county jail, for not revealing this murder; but I don’t think you need be much afraid. It is pretty clear you could not help yourselves.”