ces, all of which were endlessly interesting to its possessor.
Mrs. Halsey, indeed, called the abscess "she," wrapped it lovingly in red
flannel, describing the evening dressing of it as "putting her to bed,"
and talked of "her" qualities and oddities as though, in the phrase of
her next-door neighbour, "it'd a been a christened child." She had
decided views on politics, and was a match for any political agent who
might approach her with an eye to her vote, a commodity which she kept,
so to speak, like a new shilling in her pocket, turning it from time
to time to make sure it was there.

But independent as she was, she rarely interfered with the talk of Halsey
and his male friends. And on this occasion when the three men--Halsey,
Peter Betts, and young Dempsey--had gathered smoking round the fire, she
settled herself with her knitting by the table and the lamp, throwing in
every now and then a muttered and generally sarcastic comment, of which
her husband took no notice--especially as he knew very well that the
sarcasms were never aimed at him, and that she was as proud of him as she
was generally contemptuous of the rest of the world.

Halsey had just finished a rather grudging description of his experiences
two days before for John Dempsey's benefit. He was conscious that each
time he repeated them, they sounded more incredible. He didn't want to
repeat them; he didn't mean to repeat them; after this, nobody should get
any more out of him at all.

Young Dempsey's attitude was certainly not encouraging. Attentive at
first, he allowed himself, as Halsey's talk developed, a mild,
progressive grin, which spread gradually over his ugly but honest face,
and remained there. In face of it, Halsey's speech became more and more
laconic, till at last he shut his mouth with a snap, and drawing himself
up in his chair, re-lit his pipe with the expression that meant, "All
right--I've done--you may take it or leave it."

"Well, I don't see that what you saw, Mr. Halsey, was so very uncommon!"
Dempsey began, still smiling, in spite of a warning look from Betts.
"You saw a man come down that road? Well, in the first place, why
shouldn't a man come down that road--it's a reg'lar right of way--"

"It's the way, mind ye, as the ghost of old Watson has allus come!" put
in Peter Betts, chivalrously anxious to support his friend Halsey, as far
as he could, against a sceptical stranger. "An' it's been seen twice on
that road already, as