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 turned to where her husband sat. He was humming absently to himself, in a low tone: ‘I be as good as some folks here and there! I’ve got a great family vault at Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill, and finer skellingtons than any man in the counties o’ Wessex!’

‘I’ve something to tell ’ee that’s come into my head about that—a grand project!’ whispered his cheerful wife. ‘Here, John, don’t ’ee see me?’ She nudged him, while he, looking through her as through a window-pane, went on with his recitative.

‘Hush! Don’t ’ce sing so loud, my good man,’ said the landlady; ‘in case any member of the Gover’ment should be passing, and take away my licends.’

‘He’s told ’ee what’s happened to us, I suppose?’ asked Mrs. Durbeyfield.

‘Yes—in a way. D’ye think there’s any money hanging by it?’

‘Ah, that’s the secret,’ said Joan Durbeyfield sagely. ‘However, ’tis well to be kin to a coach, even if you don’t ride in en.’ She dropped her public voice, and continued in a low tone to her husband: ‘I’ve been thinking since you brought the