trell knocked at the door. She had
already offered to stow away anything he might like to leave with her.

"Well, I thought you'd be busy," she said as she walked in, "an' I came
up to lend a hand. Is them the things you're goin' to leave me to take
care on?"

John nodded.

"Field's cart, as takes Louisa's things to-morrer, is a-goin' to
deliver these at your place first. They're more nor I thought they
would be. But you can put 'em anywheres."

"Oh, I'll see to them."

She sat down and watched him tie the knots of the last parcel.

"There's some people as is real ill-natured," she said presently, in an
angry voice.

"Aye?" said John, looking up sharply. "What are they sayin' now?"

"It's Muster Saunders. 'Ee's allus sayin' nassty things about other
folks. And there'd be plenty of fault to be found with 'im, if onybody
was to try. An' Sally Saunders eggs him on dreadful."

Saunders was the village smith, a tall, brawny man, of great size and
corresponding wisdom, who had been the village arbiter and general
councillor for a generation. There was not a will made in Clinton
Magna that he did not advise upon; not a bit of contentious business
that he had not a share in; not a family history that he did not know.
His probity was undisputed; his ability was regarded with awe; but as
he had a sharp tongue and was no respecter of persons, there was of
course an opposition.

John took a seat on the wooden box he had just been cording, and mopped
his brow. His full cheeks were crimson, partly with exertion, partly
with sudden annoyance.

"What's 'ee been sayin' now? Though it doan't matter a brass farthin'
to me what 'ee says."

"He says you 'aven't got no proper feelin's about poor Eliza, an' you'd
ought to have done a great deal more for Louisa. But 'ee says you
allus were a mean one with your money--an' you knew that _'ee_ knew
it--for 'ee'd stopped you takin' an unfair advantage more nor once.
An' 'ee didn't believe as your money would come to any good; for now
Eliza was gone you wouldn't know how to take care on it."

John's eyes flamed.

"Oh! 'ee says that, do 'ee? Well, Saunders wor allus a beast--an' a
beast 'ee'll be."

He sat with his chin on his large dirty hands, ruminating furiously.

It was quite true that Saunders had thwarted him more than once. There
was old Mrs. Moulsey at the shop, when she wanted to buy those cottages
in Potter's Row--and there was Sam Field the higgler--bot