ted with each
other, two persons excepted. Those who were not Staplehurst people had
come in from the surrounding villages, or from Cranbrook at the
farthest. But these two men were total strangers, and they did not mix
with the villagers, but sat, in travelling garb, at one corner of the
kitchen, listening, yet rarely joining in the talk which went on around
them. One of them, indeed, seemed wrapped in his own thoughts, and
scarcely spoke, even to his companion. He was a tall spare man, with a
grave and reserved expression of countenance. The other was shorter and
much more lively in his motions, was evidently amused by the
conversation in his vicinity, and looked as if he would not object to
talk if the opportunity were given him.

Into this company came Emmet Wilson and Collet Pardue. Both had brought
full baskets from the fair, which they set down in a corner, and turned
to amuse themselves with a little chat with their friends.

"Any news abroad?" asked Collet. She dearly loved a bit of news, which
she would retail to her quiet husband as they sat by the fireside after
the day's work was done.

"Well, not so much," said John Banks, the mason, to whom Collet had
addressed herself. He was the brother of Mr Benden's servant Mary.
"Without you call it news to hear what happed at Briton's Mead last
night."

"Why, whatso? Not the mistress come home, trow?"

"Alack, no such good hap! Nay, only Tabby came down to see the master,
and brought her claws with her."

"Scrat him well, I hope?"

"Whipped him, and laid on pretty hard to boot."

"Why, you never mean it, real true, be sure!"

"Be sure I do. He's a-bed this morrow."

"I have my doubts if there'll be many tears shed in Staplehurst," said
Mistress Final, laughing, as she went past with a plate of
biscuit-bread, which, to judge from the receipt for making it, must have
been very like our sponge cake.

"He's none so much loved of his neighbours," remarked Nicholas White,
who kept a small ironmonger's shop, to which he added the sale of such
articles as wood, wicker-work, crockery, and musical instruments.

The shorter and livelier of the travellers spoke for the first time.

"Pray you, who is this greatly beloved master?"

John Fishcock, the butcher, replied. "His name is Benden, and the folks
be but ill-affected to him for his hard ways and sorry conditions."

"Hard!--in what manner, trow?"

"Nay, you'd best ask my neighbour here, whose l