"Mrs. Farfrae wrote that!" said Nance Mockridge. "'Tis a humbling thing
for us, as respectable women, that one of the same sex could do it. And
now she's avowed herself to another man!"
"So much the better for her," said the aged furmity-woman. "Ah, I saved
her from a real bad marriage, and she's never been the one to thank me."
"I say, what a good foundation for a skimmity-ride," said Nance.
"True," said Mrs. Cuxsom, reflecting. "'Tis as good a ground for a
skimmity-ride as ever I knowed; and it ought not to be wasted. The last
one seen in Casterbridge must have been ten years ago, if a day."
At this moment there was a shrill whistle, and the landlady said to the
man who had been called Charl, "'Tis Jim coming in. Would ye go and let
down the bridge for me?"
Without replying Charl and his comrade Joe rose, and receiving a lantern
from her went out at the back door and down the garden-path, which ended
abruptly at the edge of the stream already mentioned. Beyond the stream
was the open moor, from which a clammy breeze smote upon their faces
as they advanced. Taking up the board that had lain in readiness one
of them lowered it across the water, and the instant its further end
touched the ground footsteps entered upon it, and there appeared from
the shade a stalwart man with straps round his knees, a double-barrelled
gun under his arm and some birds slung up behind him.
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