some of these very instincts from
the woman before him, could not fail to awaken a reciprocity in her
through her feelings, if not by arguments, disguise it as she might
for his good. She spoke with less assurance. "And yet you might have
been a wealthy man if you had only persevered. Manager to that large
diamond establishment--what better can a man wish for? What a post of
trust and respect! I suppose you will be like your father; like him,
you are getting weary of doing well."

"No," said her son, "I am not weary of that, though I am weary of what
you mean by it. Mother, what is doing well?"

Mrs. Yeobright was far too thoughtful a woman to be content with ready
definitions, and, like the "What is wisdom?" of Plato's Socrates, and
the "What is truth?" of Pontius Pilate, Yeobright's burning question
received no answer.

The silence was broken by the clash of the garden gate, a tap at the
door, and its opening. Christian Cantle appeared in the room in his
Sunday clothes.

It was the custom on Egdon to begin the preface to a story before
absolutely entering the house, so as to be well in for the body of
the narrative by the time visitor and visited stood face to face.
Christian had been saying to them while the door was leaving its
latch, "To think that I, who go from home but once in a while, and
hardly then, should have been there this morning!"

"'Tis news you have brought us, then, Christian?" said Mrs. Yeobright.

"Ay, sure, about a witch, and ye must overlook my time o' day; for,
says I, 'I must go and tell 'em, though they won't have half done
dinner.' I assure ye it made me shake like a driven leaf. Do ye think
any harm will come o't?"

"Well--what?"

"This morning at church we was all standing up, and the pa'son said,
'Let us pray.' 'Well,' thinks I, 'one may as well kneel as stand';
so down I went; and, more than that, all the rest were as willing to
oblige the man as I. We hadn't been hard at it for more than a minute
when a most terrible screech sounded through church, as if somebody
had just gied up their heart's blood. All the folk jumped up and
then we found that Susan Nunsuch had pricked Miss Vye with a long
stocking-needle, as she had threatened to do as soon as ever she could
get the young lady to church, where she don't come very often. She've
waited for this chance for weeks, so as to draw her blood and put an
end to the bewitching of Susan's children that has been carried on so
long. Sue