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Narracombe brought in his breakfast, he felt vexed and disappointed. The woman's quick eye and snaky neck seemed to have a new alacrity this morning. Had she noticed? "So you an' the moon went walkin' last night, Mr. Ashurst! Did ye have your supper anywheres?" Ashurst shook his head. "We kept it for you, but I suppose you was too busy in your brain to think o' such a thing as that?"
"Down the lane, through the second gate on the right, an' the pool's by the big apple tree that stands by itself. There's trout there, if you can tickle them." "They're more likely to tickle us!" Mrs. Narracombe smiled. "There'll be the tea ready when you come back."
A short steep-up grass hill behind was crowned with a few Scotch firs, and in front, an old orchard of apple trees, just breaking into flower, stretched down to a stream and a long wild meadow. A little boy with oblique dark eyes was shepherding a pig, and by the house door stood a woman, who came towards them. The girl said: "It is Mrs. Narracombe, my aunt." "Mrs.
Ashurst sent his wire, addressing it to Mrs. Narracombe: "Sorry, detained for the night, back to-morrow." Surely Megan would understand that he had too much to do; and his heart grew lighter.
"I remembers one day I said to 'er: 'What's the matter, Megan? 'er name was Megan David, she come from Wales same as 'er aunt, ol' Missis Narracombe. 'Yu'm frettin' about somethin'. I says. 'No, Jim, she says, 'I'm not frettin'. 'Yes, yu be! I says. 'No, she says, and to tears cam' rollin' out. 'Yu'm cryin' what's that, then? I says.
Narracombe dreamily stirred some savoury-scented stew in a large pot. Two other youths, oblique-eyed, dark-haired, rather sly-faced, like the two little boys, were talking together and lolling against the wall; and a short, elderly, clean-shaven man in corduroys, seated in the window, was conning a battered journal.
Let me see, I've a 'ad my pension six year come Michaelmas, an' I were just on fifty when t'appened. There's none livin' knows more about et than what I du. She belonged close 'ere; same farm as where I used to work along o' Mrs. Narracombe 'tes Nick Narracombe's now; I dus a bit for 'im still, odd times."
The lame man answered cautiously: "I shouldn't like to say rightly that 't was there. 'Twas in my mind as 'twas there." "What do you make of it?" The lame man lowered his voice. "They du zay old master, Mist' Narracombe come o' gipsy stock. But that's tellin'. They'm a wonderful people, yu know, for claimin' their own. Maybe they knu 'e was goin', and sent this feller along for company.
Narracombe, my aunt," had a quick, dark eye, like a mother wild-duck's, and something of the same snaky turn about her neck. "We met your niece on the road," said Ashurst; "she thought you might perhaps put us up for the night." Mrs. Narracombe, taking them in from head to heel, answered: "Well, I can, if you don't mind one room. Megan, get the spare room ready, and a bowl of cream.
Narracombe or the girl Megan would come and ask if he wanted anything, and he would smile and say: "Nothing, thanks. It's splendid here." Towards tea-time they came out together, bearing a long poultice of some dark stuff in a bowl, and after a long and solemn scrutiny of his swollen knee, bound it on.
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