ugh afore, wi' their
quarrelsomeness and their shilly-shally. It sends all things to rack
and ruin."

"What does?" said Martin.

"This here love." Old Gillman refilled his mug. "We'll not talk of it.
She were a handy gal afore Robin began unmaking her mind along of his
own. Lord! why can't these young things be plain and say what they
want, and get it? Wasn't I plain wi' her mother?"

"Were you?" said Martin.

"Ah, worse luck!" said Gillman, "and me a happy bachelor as I was. What
did I want wi' a minx about the place?" He filled his mug again.

"What do any of us?" said Martin. "These women are the deuce."

"They are," said Gillman. "We'll not talk of em."

"There are a thousand better things to talk of," agreed Martin. "There
is Sloe Gin."

Old Gillman's eye brightened. "Ah!" said Old Gillman, and puffed at his
pipe. "Her name," he said, "was Juniper, but as oft as not I'd call her
June, for she was like that. A rose in the house, boy. Maybe you think
my Jill has her share of looks? She has her mother's leavings, let me
tell ye. So you may judge. But what's this Robin to dilly-dally with
her daughter, till the gal can't sleep o' nights for wondering will he
speak in the morning or will he be mum? And so she becomes worse than
no use in kitchen and dairy, and since sickness is catching the maids
follow suit. It's all off and on wi' them and their lads. In the
morning they will, in the evening they won't. Ah, twas a tarrible
life. And all along o' Robin Rue. Young man, the farm, I tell ye, was
going to fair rack and ruin."

"You seem to have found a remedy," said Martin.

"If they silly maids couldn't make up their minds," said Old Gillman,
"there was nothing for it but to turn em out neck and crop till they
learned what they wanted. And Robin into the bargain. He's no better
than a maid when it comes to taking the bull by the horns. Yet that's
the man's part, mark ye. Don't I know? Smockalley she come from, the
Rose of Smockalley they called her, for a Rose in June she were. There
weren't a lass to match her south of Hagland and north of Roundabout.
And the lads would ha' died for her from Picketty to Chiltington. But
twas a Billinghurst lad got her, d'ye see?" Old Gillman filled his mug.

"How did that come about?" asked Martin, filling his.

"All along o' the Murray River."

"WHAT'S that!" said Martin Pippin. But Old Gillman thought he said,
"What's THAT?"

"'Tis the biggest river in Sussex, youn