e to the men of the Weald the
title of "the Grey-Coats of Kent." From all the villages round about,
the factory-hands were recruited. The old factories had stood from the
days when Edward the Third and his Flemish Queen brought over the
weavers of the Netherlands to improve the English manufactures; and some
of them stand yet, turned into ancient residences for the country
squires who had large stakes in them in the old days, or peeping out
here and there in the principal streets of the town, in the form of old
gables and other antique adornments.

"Well, Collet! You've a brave fardel yonder!"

"I've six lads and two lasses, neighbour," said Collet with a laugh.
"Takes a sight o' cloth, it do, to clothe 'em."

"Be sure it do! Ay, you've a parcel of 'em. There's only my man and
Titus at our house. Wasn't that Mistress Benden that parted from you
but now? She turned off a bit afore I reached her."

"Ay, it was. She's a pleasant neighbour."

"She's better than pleasant, she's good."

"Well, I believe you speak sooth. I'd lief you could say the same of
her master. I wouldn't live with Master Benden for a power o' money."

"Well, I'd as soon wish it too, for Mistress Benden's body; but I'm not
so certain sure touching Mistress Benden's soul. 'Tis my belief if
Master Benden were less cantankerous, Mistress wouldn't be nigh so
good."

"What, you hold by the old rhyme, do you--?

"`A spaniel, a wife, and a walnut tree,
The more they be beaten, the better they be.'"

"Nay, I'll not say that: but this will I say, some folks be like
camomile--`the more you tread it, the more you spread it.' When you
squeeze 'em, like clover, you press the honey forth: and I count
Mistress Benden's o' that sort."

"Well, then, let's hope poor Sens Bradbridge is likewise, for she's like
to get well squeezed and trodden. Have you heard she's lost her
master?"

"I have so. Mistress Final told me this morrow early. Nay, I doubt
she's more of the reed family, and 'll bow down her head like a bulrush.
Sens Bradbridge'll bend afore she breaks, and Mistress Benden 'll break
afore she bends."

"'Tis pity Mistress Benden hath ne'er a child; it might soften her
master, and anyhow should comfort her."

"I wouldn't be the child," said Emmet drily.

Collet laughed. "Well, nor I neither," said she. "I reckon they'll not
often go short of vinegar in that house; Master Benden's face 'd turn
all the wine, let alone the cream.