While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an

animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt,

the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having

seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of

the event, and indulging in predictions of his future.

"And who's he?" asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy

entered.

"Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He's my great-nephew--come since

you was last this way." The old inhabitant who answered was a tall,

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gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and

gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. "He come

from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago--worse luck

for 'n, Belinda" (turning to the right) "where his father was living,

and was took wi' the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you

know, Caroline" (turning to the left). "It would ha' been a blessing

if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi' thy mother and father, poor

useless boy! But I've got him here to stay with me till I can see

what's to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any

penny he can. Just now he's a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham.

It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?" she

continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps

upon his face, moved aside.

The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of

Miss or Mrs. Fawley's (as they called her indifferently) to have him

with her--"to kip 'ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet

the winder-shetters o' nights, and help in the bit o' baking."

Miss Fawley doubted it.... "Why didn't ye get the schoolmaster to

take 'ee to Christminster wi' un, and make a scholar of 'ee," she

continued, in frowning pleasantry. "I'm sure he couldn't ha' took a

better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our

family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same--so I've heard; but

I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this

place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her

husband, after they were married, didn' get a house of their own for

some year or more; and then they only had one till--Well, I won't go

into that. Jude, my child, don't you ever marry. 'Tisn't for the

Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like

a child o' my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little

maid should know such changes!"




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