"Too much kitchen-fire has brought on softening of this old person's brain!" said Mr. Benthall to himself. "There can't be a shadow of foundation for what she says, or I should surely have heard of it in the village!" Then aloud, "What makes you think this, Mrs. Covey?" "What meks me think it? Why, my own eyesight meks me think it, and that's the best think I can have i' the matter," replied the old woman, waxing rather cross at her master's evident incredulity. "Nobody niver spoke of it, becos' nobody knowed it; but I've sat at the kitchen-window o' summer nights and seen 'em walkin' roun' the garden for hours thegither, hand in hand, or him wi' his arms round her waist, and I know what that means, tho' I may be an old fool!" "No, no, Mrs. Covey, no one ever thought that for a minute," said Mr. Benthall, anxious to soothe the old woman's offended dignity, and really very much interested in the news she had given him. "No doubt you're quite correct, only, as I had never heard a hint of this before, I was rather startled at the suddenness of the announcement, Tell me now, had Mr. Ashurst any notion of what was going on?" "Wasn't the schoolmaster, poor feckless critter, allays buzzed in th' heed wi' book-larnin' and troubles o' all sorts? No bittle as iver flew war blinder, nor deafer, than my poor owd master in matters what didn't concern him!" "Nor Mrs. Ashurst?" "Ah, the poor sickly thing, wi' pains here and aches there, and so dillicate, and niver 'nuff strength to look after what she ought, let alone anything else! No! they kept it to themselves, the young pipple, and nobody knowed nowt about it but me, and they didn't know as I knew, for the kitchen-window, as you know, is hid wi' fuzz and creepers, and you can see out wi'out bein' seen! Lor, lor, and so she's gone and married that owd man! And t'other one's gone for a sojer, they say, and all that story, as I used to sit i' the kitchen and make up in my head, will niver be! Lor, lor, what a world it is!"