s of the fair.
By and by her attention was arrested by a little stall of cakes and
ginger-breads, standing between the more pretentious erections of
trestles and canvas. It was covered with an immaculate cloth, and
tended by a young woman apparently unused to the business, she being
accompanied by a boy with an octogenarian face, who assisted her.

"Upon my--senses!" murmured the widow to herself. "His wife Sue--if
she is so!" She drew nearer to the stall. "How do you do, Mrs.
Fawley?" she said blandly.

Sue changed colour and recognized Arabella through the crape veil.

"How are you, Mrs. Cartlett?" she said stiffly. And then perceiving
Arabella's garb her voice grew sympathetic in spite of herself.
"What?--you have lost--"

"My poor husband. Yes. He died suddenly, six weeks ago, leaving me
none too well off, though he was a kind husband to me. But whatever
profit there is in public-house keeping goes to them that brew the
liquors, and not to them that retail 'em... And you, my little old
man! You don't know me, I expect?"

"Yes, I do. You be the woman I thought wer my mother for a bit, till
I found you wasn't," replied Father Time, who had learned to use the
Wessex tongue quite naturally by now.

"All right. Never mind. I am a friend."

"Juey," said Sue suddenly, "go down to the station platform with this
tray--there's another train coming in, I think."

When he was gone Arabella continued: "He'll never be a beauty, will
he, poor chap! Does he know I am his mother really?"

"No. He thinks there is some mystery about his parentage--that's all.
Jude is going to tell him when he is a little older."

"But how do you come to be doing this? I am surprised."

"It is only a temporary occupation--a fancy of ours while we are in a
difficulty."

"Then you are living with him still?"

"Yes."

"Married?"

"Of course."

"Any children?"

"Two."

"And another coming soon, I see."

Sue writhed under the hard and direct questioning, and her tender
little mouth began to quiver.

"Lord--I mean goodness gracious--what is there to cry about? Some
folks would be proud enough!"

"It is not that I am ashamed--not as you think! But it seems
such a terribly tragic thing to bring beings into the world--so
presumptuous--that I question my right to do it sometimes!"

"Take it easy, my dear... But you don't tell me why you do such a
thing as this? Jude used to be a proud sort of chap--above any
bus