her at Thursley."

"I am sorry for that," said Mehetabel, "and most sorry that I have
caused her inconvenience, and that she is ill through me."

"I heard her say it was damp sheets, and not you at all. Old wimen
are won'erful tender, more so than gals. And, of course, you've
heard about Iver."

"Iver! What of Iver?" asked Mehetabel, with a flush in her cheek.

"Well, Mister Colpus, he had a talk wi' Iver about matters at the
Ship. He told him that the girl Polly were gettin' the upper hand
in everythin', and that if he didn't look smart and interfere she'd
be marryin' the old chap right off on end, and gettin' him to leave
everythin' to her, farm and public house and all his savings.
Though she's an innercent lookin' wench, and wi' a head like a
suet puddin' she knows how to get to the blind side of the master,
and though she's terrible at breakages, she is that smooth-tongued
that she can get him to believe that the fault lies everywhere else
but at her door. So Iver, he said he'd go off to Thursley at once,
and send Polly to the right-abouts. And a very good thing too. I'll
be glad to see the back of her. 'Twas a queer thing now, Iver
gettin' on to jury, weren't it?"

"Yes, Joe, I was surprised."

"I reckon the Rocliffes didn't half like it, but they made no
complaint to the lawyer, and so he didn't think there was aught
amiss. You see, the Rocliffes be won'erful ignorant folk. If that
blackguard lawyer chap as sed what he sed about you had known who
Iver was, he'd have turned him out. That insolent rascal. I sed I'd
punish him. I will. They told me he comes fishin' to the Frensham
Ponds and Pudmoor. He stays at the Hut Inn. I'll be in waitin' for
him next time, and give him a duckin' in them ponds, see if I don't."

The journey home was not to be made in a day when old Clutch was
concerned, and it had to be broken at Guildford. Moreover, at
Godalming it was interrupted by the obstinacy of the horse,
which--whether through revival of latent sentiment toward the
gray mare, or through conviction that he had done enough, refused
to proceed, and lay down in the shafts in the middle of the road.
Happily he did this with such deliberation, and after having
announced his intention so unequivocally, that Mehetabel was able
to escape out of the taxcart with her baby unhurt.

"It can't be helped," said Joe Filmer, "we'll never move him out
but by levers; what will you do, Matabel? Walk on or wait?"

Mehetabel elec