“You forget my old mother died last Christmas.”
“Ah! so her did—that’s lucky,” said Mrs. Haycraft.
After the funeral the widows walked together. They left their friends at Postbridge, then returned home side by side.
As they ascended the hill, with Avisa’s two little girls marching together behind them, a robin suddenly sang out sharp and clear.
“Thank the Lord I’ve heard that,” said Honor, very earnestly, alluding to an ancient fable.
Her reconciled friend nodded.
“I be very glad also,” she said. “To hear redbreast singing after a child is buried do mean the little one’s safe in Heaven; though, all the same, God only knows where the babbies should go to, if not to Him.”
WITH BELL, BOOK AND CANDLE
CHAPTER I
On a frosty night, when George III was King, certain men, for the most part familiar customers, sat in the bar of the “Golden Anchor,” Daleham; and amongst them appeared that welcome addition to the usual throng: a stranger. For his benefit old tales were told anew and ancient memories ransacked; because this West country fishing village enjoyed rich encrustation of legend and romance, and boasted a roll call of great names and great deeds. Here dwelt the spirits of bygone free-traders, visible by night in the theatre of their lawless enterprises; and here even more notable stories, touching more notable phantoms, might also be gleaned from ancient intelligencers at the time of evening drinking.