l, I said to Bates: "Is
that Stott's boy?"

Bates looked at me curiously. "Why, no," he said. "Them's the 'Arrisons.
'Arrison's dead now; he was a wrong 'un, couldn't make a job of it,
nohow. They used to live 'ere, five or six year ago, and now 'er
'usband's dead, Mrs. 'Arrison's coming back with the boy to live. Worse
luck. We thought we was shut of 'em."

"Oh!" I said. "The boy's an idiot, I suppose."

"'Orrible," replied Bates, shaking his head, "'orrible; can't speak nor
nothing; goes about bleating and baa-ing like an old sheep."

I looked round, but the ramshackle cart was hidden by the turn of the
road. "Does Stott still live at Pym?" I asked.

"Not Ginger," replied Bates. "He lives at Ailesworth. Mrs. Stott and 'er
son lives here."

"The boy's still alive then?" I asked.

"Yes," said Bates.

"Intelligent child?" I asked.

"They say," replied Bates. "Book-learnin' and such. They say 'e's read
every book in Mr. Challis's librairy."

"Does he go to school?"

"No. They let 'im off. Leastways Mr. Challis did. They say the Reverend
Crashaw, down at Stoke, was fair put out about it."

I thought that Bates emphasised the "on dit" nature of his information
rather markedly. "What do _you_ think of him?" I asked.

"Me?" said Bates. "I don't worry my 'ead about him. I've got too much to
_do_." And he went off into technicalities concerning the abundance of
charlock on the arable land of Pym. He called it "garlic." I saw that it
was typical of Bates that he should have too much to _do_. I reflected
that his was the calling which begot civilisation.

IV

The best and surest route from Pym to the Wood Farm is, appropriately,
by way of the wood; but in wet weather the alternative of various cart
tracks that wind among the bracken and shrub of the Common, is
preferable in many ways. May had been very dry that year, however, and
Farmer Bates chose the wood. The leaves were still light on the beeches.
I remember that as I tried to pierce the vista of stems that dipped over
the steep fall of the hill, I promised myself many a romantic
exploration of the unknown mysteries beyond.

Everything was so bright that afternoon that nothing, I believe, could
have depressed me. When I had reached the farm and looked round the low,
dark room with its one window, a foot from the ground and two from the
ceiling, I only thought that I should be out-of-doors all the time. It
amused me that I could touch the ceiling with my