“This be very sartin,” said a tall, pale woman, with a child in her arms: “if she could come back arter she’d gone she ’ould. Her mind was all here when she died. When she was in her last hour her little darter came up to see how she was agoin’ on. ‘Mind the bisness,’ said she, quite sharp; and when Brickett came up, she sent him down pretty quickish. ‘Don’t mind me, mind the customers’—them were her last words. And she were an audacious woman after money, sure alive.”
There is hardly any country place in the United Kingdom but owns some superstitution, which many of the inhabitants have full belief in.
At all ages, and in every place, there have been found many who have entertained the belief that at certain periods the dead are permitted to revisit the earth for a brief period; and it was said in the neighbourhood that the deceased landlady of the “Carved Lion” could not rest in her grave without, in disembodied spirit, occasionally hovering about the old hostelry.
She had been a hard-fisted, money-loving woman in her time, and the frequenters of the inn were wont to talk about her ghost being seen on the common, in one of the dark lanes or elsewhere, in the “witching time of night.”
“She must have growed a good bit since she died,” said the woman, who had been called Nelly, “for she was a good deal shorter than that gawk there when she wur here. It’s all nonsense, I tell ’ee. If people goes to a better world they don’t want to come back to a place like this, and if they go to another place——”
“Hoosh—hoosh!” exclaimed several voices.
“Get along with ’ee with yeer hooshing. It’s only the truth that I am speaking,” exclaimed the young woman.
Doubtless an altercation would have ensued, but the subject was dropped upon the appearance of a stranger.
This was Peace, who had finished his repast in the parlour, and strolled into the skittle-ground.
“Your sarvant, sir,” said one of the rustics to Peace.